Taming The Tycoon
by BrightAsNight
Summary: Arranged marriage. Three months. A psychotic brother. A debt to pay off. SHANDY/ MPreg
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N] **

**The idea just popped into my head. I just couldn't help getting this out as soon as possible. Hope everyone reading this will enjoy it and reviews will be greatly appreciated. Written in Randy's POV. This may bore you, but I promise, the following chapters won't be.**

**Song of the Chapter: **_War of Change-Thousand Foot Krutch_

**(01)**

I always wondered why I had no friends when I went to school; a private institute where my parents worked twenty hours a day to pay off the tuition. I always wondered why we moved onto Forks from St. Louis; we could've bought or rented another house in St. Louis instead of moving back to my childhood home. I always wondered why Mom and Dad never talked about my college education; I wanted to be a writer.

I got the answers. Just not the way I expected it to be revealed.

We were all coming back home after a long day at my school. Graduation, plus my birthday; I was officially eighteen. Both free from disturbing school life and being a burden to my parents. My Dad was the happiest; he had literally cried when Celeste Ground-our Vice Principal announced that I was the highest graded student of the year. It was raining outside, the sky nearly breaking apart from the booming thunder and flashing lightening. Dad hadn't cared any about that, though. In spite of the merry situation, neither of us had cared. That was our mistake. Dad had pressed the accelerator to speed our way home to celebrate my birthday.

Our car slipped on the wet road, sliding to the right. A loud beep reached my ears and the next thing that had caught my eyes was bright lights… and blackout. It took me four months to be fully healed and wake up. The doctor told me that I've been in a coma. And another agonizingly slow fortnight to hear a simple fact about my parents.

They were dead.

They had died in the car, on the spot of the accident.

I didn't even get to say good bye to them.

I didn't cry.

Another week later, a day before I was supposed to be discharged a man came to visit me.

"Randal Orton?" he had asked when he entered the room. I could only nod. "My name is Paul Heyman, and I'm here to represent Mr. Owen Farrelly, the owner of Farelly Shipping Agencies. Are you familiar with any one of the names I've spoken of?" I had shaken my head.

"Then I may as well tell you the story from the beginning," he had given me the crudest smile.

That's when I heard all of the things that I had never wished to hear. My parents owed one and a half million dollars for Mr. Farrelly. They had brought it to build the house in Forks and for medication for the sickness my Mom had suffered for years when I was young. They have only paid back fifty thousand dollars, which meant they had taken two million in the first place. Heyman had left, stating that I had to pay back to him one way, or another. And I had no fucking idea how to.

I didn't cry.

Two days later the man himself came to visit me. He hadn't bothered knocking on the door. Everything about him screamed rich. His Armani suit, the silver Titan watch on his left wrist, thousand dollars worth Allen Edmonds shoes on his feet, even the way he walked and the confidence that wafted off his body. Mr. Farrelly took a seat on the cheap plastic chair beside my bed. He was silent, and I was silent. He seemed to search something in me with his calculating, judgmental green eyes, and he seemed to find a certain connection that I yet failed to come up with.

"I do not need to introduce myself, and neither do you," he was very straight forward, his thick accent adding emotion to his words. "You already know why I'm here. But I'm going to offer you a proposition, which I rarely do for those who owe me. But considering your situation… and mine, you are to accept it without any argument."

And here I am.

Standing beside Stephen Farrelly, the younger son of Owen Farrelly on the altar, my hand placed on his. My actions were robotic, words slipped out of my lips emotionless, my eyes stayed planted on our hands. His pale skin on his hand holding my tan skinned fingers looked strange. A thin golden band slipped on to my ring finger, a single heart shaped ruby decorating it. I was handed a much larger ring, which I didn't even spare a glance at as I slipped on to his finger. But it was heavier. Just like our relationship would be the rest of the years of my life. If I got lucky, it would be only for a few months.

I faintly heard the priest mumbling about the finalizing kiss. I tensed. I had never kissed anyone before. I wasn't afraid to but the knotting feeling in my guts was holding me back. I raised my eyes to look at my 'husband' for the first time in my life. The first thing I met was cold, emerald eyes. They held a look of wild, ruthless emotion that sent a deadly shiver down my spine. Fiery red hair. Such a contrast against his ghostly pale skin. I wouldn't exactly call him handsome. I would call him 'striking'. A few seconds passed as he held my gaze in silence. I could feel the tension flailing through the air as the guests began to murmur.

Then he dropped his gaze and leaned forward. I copied him, pressing my lips onto his in an awkward but just enough to satisfy the others. It wasn't exactly a kiss, just a mere brush of two pairs of lips. I didn't feel anything. The wedding was over. He let go of my hand as soon as we stepped to the ground. My heart was heavy; my chest was tightened with an unknown feeling. Was I going to break down?

Politely flashing fake smiles at the guests who congratulated me, I got into the car that was prepared to take me and Stephen to the guest house we were supposed to spend our honeymoon. Instead, I found Stephen driving straight to his father's mansion. A few minutes passed, and the car slowed down. I furrowed my brows in confusion when Stephen parked the car in the parking lot of a fast food shop. He got out of the car after yanking the rose that was pinned to his suit pocket off the material and tossing it to the floor of the car. Slamming the door shut behind him, he walked a few feet away from the car but he was in my vision.

I watched as he talked to someone on the phone, the sound of his voice was muffled as it reached me through the glass, but from the tone told me that he was ranting out his anger. I sighed. It was obvious that he didn't want to marry me, or anyone else for that matter. I didn't blame him. We were both forced into the marriage, but I could also understand why his father did this. I closed my eyes, resting my head on the headrest of the seat.

"_Three months… For three months you will be his husband. Within the limited time, change him. Turn him completely into the man I'm searching for._"

Those were his words. I only understood the first sentence. It was either jail, or accepting this proposition. I chose the latter. How was I supposed to change a man that I didn't even know? And how was I supposed to know what kind of a man Mr. Farrelly was searching to be his heir? Wasn't he supposed to hand out his everything to the elder son? I sighed again, this time tired. Tired of everything; tired of life. My eye lids drew up as I turned my eyes to Stephen, who had gotten into the car again and was revving the engine up. He seemed somewhat calmed now, after blowing off his anger at whoever person it was at the other end of the call. I quickly averted my stare just as his face turned to my side.

I trailed my fingers over the wedding ring I wore. It was weighing my arm down, like it was a burden that I was punished to carry. A lump got stuck in my throat. I swallowed down hard and looked out of the window as endless blurring images passed through my eyes. When we finally arrived to the mansion, I got out of the car much later than Stephen. I had been here only once, a few days ago to meet Mrs. Farrelly, sweet lady with red hair just like Stephen's and sapphire eyes, with crinkles in the corners of her eyes whenever she smiled. I walked up the marble stairs.

"Hello," an enthusiastic voice greeted me. I looked at the source, a young man with a much smaller body who looked like he was in my age was beaming down at me from the top of the marble stairs, his raven hair neatly combed back and his tux neatly worn. His brown eyes were bright, which gave my cold heart a little tinge of warmness. I returned his gesture with a small smile. "Mr. Farrelly must be tired. Shall I make you a drink before I show you your room?"

It took me a few seconds to realize that he was addressing _me_ as Farrelly. I was not an Orton anymore. A sigh fell out of my lips. "Please call me Randy."

He pursed his lips, and glanced back in the house as if to see anyone was in sight. Then he turned back to me. "Only when we're alone. We're not allowed to call our Masters by their first names."

I was not a Master, I wanted to say. I was just as a servant as you are. "Only in private then," I agreed, just to see the young man smile again, which he did. "Where is he?" I stepped inside the house, my eyes roaming over as far as they can to see where Stephen was.

"Up in his room," he said, a look of worry taking over his face. "May I ask what you are doing here? You were supposed to-"

"I know," I cut him off, finalizing that I didn't want to talk about it. "He drove straight here. Can you show me to a guest room? He'll need some time alone." And I will need my own space.

"Sure," he nodded, and then muttered to himself "but Master Farrelly and Mistress won't like it when they see you here." I couldn't agree more with that. But I didn't have to worry about that, it wasn't my fault. Stephen could handle that part.

"What's your name?" I asked, trying to sound curious as he led me up another staircase.

"Evan Bourne," he chirped. "You can call me Evan, if you like."

I gave a nod, noticing that we have stopped in front of a door. "That is Master Stephen's room," Evan pointed to the door right across the guest room that was supposed to be mine. "I wouldn't suggest you go in there unless after receiving permission." Evan opened the door for me, and I stepped in. the room was beautiful, themed with gold and white. Grandeur was an understatement. I felt a bit afraid to even touch a thing in it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I could only nod. "Well, I'll be leaving now. Anything else you need, ring that bell that's attached to the wall beside your bed."

"Wait, Evan," I called, just before he shut the door. "Is there anything that I can wear? I'm going to have a shower; I need clothes to change into."

"You do have clothes here, closets filled with," Evan said, but uncertainty was all over his face. "But it's in Master Stephen's room. Don't worry," he assured at the look on my face. "I'll get something for you. Preference?"

I felt grateful. "Just a pair of denim jeans and a plain colored t-shirt."

"Any brand you prefer?" I wasn't surprised. These were rich people after all.

"Any type that I can wear," I smiled as Evan laughed heartily. After giving me a parting nod he left, closing the door behind me. As soon as he was out of the sight, my smile disappeared. I quickly stripped off the suit. I wasn't made for this lifestyle; it was basically a pain in my ass- no pun intended. I didn't even admire how the bathroom was designed. There were lots of tubs and taps and everything, but I chose the simple glass caged shower stall.

I took as much as time I needed. Every other day, every other time, a shower would have taken the stress, the emotion away from my body. But not this time. My body came out of the shower just as it went in, stiffened and tensed. For some reason all of the muscles in my body was sore, a whine dragged out of my lips as I rolled my neck and stretched out my hands, the sore flesh aching as I did so. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I exited the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I turned around only to freeze. Stephen was standing right about an inch away from me, his emerald eyes blazing down at me. I pursed my lips to force back the gasp that was going to escape from my lips and took a step back, increasing the space between us.

But it didn't matter.

He stepped forward, and the proximity between us was an inch again. His eyes once dropped down, landing on my lips before travelling further. My heart jumped into my throat, and my breathing quickened, as his cold gaze roamed up and down my barely covered body, like a predator eyeing its prey. Then those eyes fixed upon mine again.

"We may be married, but we aren't a couple. Let me make this clear to you before you make castles in the sky. You are nothing to me. So don't get attached, you won't be receiving anything from me. Be a good bitch like you're supposed to be for the next few months, 'cause as soon as my beloved father legally gives me all of his property, I won't be needing you," he turned around, but then stopped short as he remembered something. "Don't whore yourself around till then. I have a reputation to keep."

Something that has never been lightened ignited within me. Anger coursed through my veins, and I gritted my teeth hard. "I'm not a whore."

He spun around, slamming my back against the wall behind me. A pained whimper escaped my lips, but the fire in my eyes didn't.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he spat, his hand gripping my jaws painfully. "You are not to talk back to me, you are not to look at me, and you are not to touch me unless I give permission. You are nothing but my personal slave." His hand slipped down to my throat and squeezed down hard once. I gasped out, but he quickly retreated his hand as if touching me had burnt him. "Just fucking stay out of my way."

Not even sparing me a final glance he stepped back, leaving the room after slamming the door behind him. The room almost shattered by the force. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, drawing my knees to my chest.

I cried.

Tears ran down my cheeks, flowing out of my eyes like waterfalls. Sob after sob tore out of my chest and my body trembled hard like I was having a fit. I cursed that I had been born, I cursed at the Container driver who killed my parents, and I cursed at my parents for leaving me alone in this world. And god have mercy on me, my life here was just getting started.


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N] **

**I'm a sucker for kids!**

**Appreciating **_vampqueen440_**, **_waldron82_**, **_shirozero_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_RKO-flavored-skittles_**, **_sexyablonde_**'s reviews on the previous chapter. **

**Song of the Chapter: **_I Hate Everything about You-Three Days Grace_

**(02)**

I could hear loud voices from downstairs. Obviously, someone was shouting his head off. I had no doubt that it was Stephen. Half an hour ago his parents arrived home, and from the peek I caught by poking my head out of the window, Mr. Farrelly looked beyond furious. He had stormed up the marble stairs, his walking stick waving vigorously in the air with Mrs. Farrelly hurrying behind him to catch up with his quick strides. I would've laughed my ass off at the sight if _I_ haven't been caught up in this situation.

An almost audible knock was heard. Sliding out of the bed slowly, I walked across the room, my bare feet padding softly on the expensive carpet. I opened the door a crack, seeing Evan fidgeting on the doorway. "They want you to come down," he said, his voice barely loud enough to hear. I opened the door wider, letting him in. Slipping into the pair of Nike shoes that Evan had brought me earlier, I glanced at the smaller man who was constantly shifting his body weight from one leg to another.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.

"Master Farrelly and Master Stephen are fighting," he whispered back, glancing at the door. "Master Stephen said he didn't drive to the guest house because you were sick."

He blamed it on me? I sighed. "Right."

"Please be careful when you talk with Mr. Farrelly," Evan said in a pleading voice. "He's not in a good mood."

Like father, like son. I gave a nod just to assure Evan and followed him out of the room. The arguments got louder the closer I got but one voice stood out of all the rest. Nausea rolled in my stomach as I stopped right at the entrance of the living room, taking in the scene. Mrs. Farrelly was on the couch, her face hidden behind her palms. She looked stressed, more so sick of her husband and sun fighting over. Mr. Farrelly was standing face to face with Stephen, a calm look washed over his features. He didn't seem even slightly phased by Stephen's complains, to which I'm sure he had gotten more than used.

Stephen's face was the exact opposite. Skin on his face matched the color of his hair; red. He was angry- no, scratch that, he was enraged. He was fuming like a bear woken up from its hibernation, breathing in and out heavily, his chest rising and falling fast. Fists clenched, jaws twitching as he gritted his teeth hard. I gulped. This guy had temper issues.

"Mr. Farrelly," I called, softening out my voice as much as I can. All of their eyes settled on me, Mr. Farrelly's eerily calm, his wife's relieved, and Stephen's heated. I walked inside as Mr. Farrelly motioned to me with his fingers. "You called me?"

"I'm apologizing if I had disturbed you in any way," then he paused, waiting and looking at me expectantly. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was waiting for a response.

"That's okay, I wasn't doing anything."

"Then may I ask if you'd like-"

"Oh, cut the _cra_p, Dad," Stephen snapped. "Just ask him what you wanted to ask already. It's nice to know that you trust very highly of me," he muttered the last part, but it didn't go unnoticed by either of us, nor his mother.

Mr. Farrelly's jaws clenched, as he glowered at Stephen. I cleared my throat to get his attention back to me. He quickly composed his expression, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips for the breif-est moment. "Are you not feeling well?"

I pursed my lips. So Stephen _had_ told his father that the reason behind canceling the honeymoon was me. I averted my gaze to the floor, fixing it on Mr. Farrelly's Italian shoes. "Yes."

"The why did you keep it in silence? I could've channeled you to our personal consultant," I could imagine his eye brows shooting up, at the tone of his voice. I shook my head slowly.

"I appreciate your concern, sir," I said, looking up at him. "But it's only simple stomach flu. It will fade away after a few hours."

A moment of silence. "But you could-"

"Oh for _fuck's sake_ he clearly said-"Stephen bellowed, throwing his hands up in the air. I heard Mrs. Farrelly gasp and getting out of her seat.

"Do _not _cuss on me, boy. I'm your father!" Mr. Farrelly's calm façade broke down as he snarled in anger. Stephen managed to cut off one of his father's nerves. Mr. Farrelly got into Stephen's face, only about a foot of proximity between them. "You have been an obnoxious, worthle-"

"Mr. Farrelly," I don't know why I did it. I jumped in between them, placing my hands on Mr. Farrelly's chest to stop him from lunging at Stephen. Just as I got in between the space, they both charged over, Stephen's chest crashing against my back as he tried to get into his father's face and Mr. Farrelly fuming from my arms' length away. "Please. I'm the one who told him that I can't go. It's not his fault."

Stephen's breath was fanning against my neck. I could feel the heat radiating his body, as his chest was pressed tightly against my back. I couldn't concentrate for some reason; all I knew was that my hold on Mr. Farrelly was weakening. But then I realized he wasn't fighting back. He just stood there; his hair messed up wildly, his eyes had taken over a light red color with anger at Stephen. He was glaring, but his eyes softened the tiniest bit when they dropped onto me. Inspecting me with his narrowed green orbs, he waited a minute until sighing and stepping back.

Wiping a hand down his face, he glanced at his wife who was holding onto his arm for dear life, deathly worried at how her husband would react next. "Very well," he said, his voice controlled but strained once more. "Next time, please do remember to inform one of us before doing anything like this."

I nodded, my hands falling to my sides and brushing lightly against Stephen's. That's when I remembered he was still pressed behind me, but I could hear no heavy breathing or any sound of him being raged. I tore myself away from him. "May I leave?"

"You may," Mrs. Farrelly's voice was barely audible, and I noticed that she wasn't even looking at his son. "Please take enough rest and get well soon."

"I will," flashing the smallest smile I could muster up, I walked out of the room. Evan was standing at the doorway again, his hands folded behind his back and head bowed down. "Take me to the kitchen," I said in a low voice, just enough for him to hear since I heard footfalls approaching. Evan hesitated a second before spinning around and practically jogging towards where the kitchen was. I followed behind him. Only a girl was in the kitchen, in a cook's suit, her auburn hair tied in a tight bun and a hat covering her head. She was stirring something in a pot, which smelled like chicken noodle soup.

I stomach grumbled at the delicious smell, and I eagerly stepped towards the girl, licking my lips.

"Evan, how many times do I have to tell you not to bother me when I'm cooking?" She accused, not even glancing behind to see if it was really Evan. I chuckled lightly, shaking my head at her. She had an accent which was familiar to Italian.

"But I didn't!" Evan protested from the other side of the room. That's when she turned around, to see that it was me who had come up behind her.

"Master," she bowed her head. I groaned inwardly. "I'm sorry I didn't notice it was you that-"

"Whoa," I raised my hands. "Calm down. I won't bite you. Call me Randy, not Master."

"I told you he was awesome!" Evan chirped, but his voice had an edge in the end. I looked at him, frowning at his startled expression. He visibly gulped, his brown eyes staring at something right behind me. Tensing, I slowly turned around to see Stephen standing a few inches away from me, in my personal space. I cringed slightly, my back hitting the edge of the table behind me. I heard sounds of footfalls fading, which meant that both Evan and that girl had scurried out of the kitchen.

"I told you not to stand in my way," he growled. I turned my head to the side, diverting my gaze from him. Can you believe the nerve of this man?

"You should be thanking me," I simply said.

"You should be on your knees in front of me," he retorted, inching closer. I leaned back, focusing my eyes back into his again.

"Maybe in your dreams," I tried to move away, but he caught my elbow, yanking me against him. Lowering his head, his lips dangerously close to mine, he dropped the sound of his voice a tone lower.

"You're a terrible liar….. Why?"

I parted my lips to talk, but nothing came out of my mouth. For an agonizing moment my focus was on his pink lips, staring at how perfect they looked. And then my eyes drew up, landing on his own to see that his emeralds were fixed upon my own lips. Was I imagining things? "It's for my own sole purpose. I didn't do it to save you." I pulled away, somehow sliding out of his space. For better safety, I rounded the table, stopping when I was at the other side of it. Stephen's hand was in the air, his fingers still curled inwards as if they were still holding my elbow. He was frozen, only his eyes running over nothing in particular.

Then his hand dropped to his side and he straightened up, glancing at me once before exiting the kitchen. I realized that there was a loud thudding noise in my ears as I watched him retreat. Oh, that was my heart. It was racing inside my chest, like a Ferarri in a NASCAR race. I hugged myself, sitting down on the chair that had been drawn out by Evan moments ago. I put my face in my hands, sighing for the umpteenth time of the day. What had I gotten myself into?

"Are you okay?" someone whispered.

I raised my head from my hands, giving a small smile at Evan and the girl who were making their way into the kitchen warily. "Yeah."

"He didn't hurt you, didn't he?" it was the girl. My smile dropped, but I managed to keep my face straight.

"No," my tone was flat, giving no space for argument. "I'm hungry."

"What would you like to eat?" Evan asked his hand on the handle of the refrigerator. I pointed at the steaming pot in the oven instead.

"Whatever that's in there," the girl chuckled at me as I said it, her hazel eyes shining bright. "So what's your name?"

"Rosa," she replied, jumping from here to there, picking up bowls and spoons, working like an expert. "Proud Mexican. Been working here for three years." I thought she was Italian?

"I was wondering," literally, "how old are you two?"

"Twenty four!" Evan jumped. He didn't act like one.

"Twenty six," Rosa grumbled. She didn't look too happy about it. "And you are?"

I was ashamed. I dropped my gaze to the floor, my fingers fiddling with each other as I revealed my age. "Turned eighteen six months ago."

The whole kitchen was engulfed in the pin drop silence. Even my heart beat was echoing through the room. "You're not trying to kid us, are you?" Rosa asked in a dangerously calmed voice, I shook my head.

"Holy shit," Evan muttered. "Master Stephen is twenty five. What is our Big Boss trying to play at?"

"He had generous reasons," I said, stirring the soup in the small bowl that Rosa had placed on the table. My appetite was long gone. "And I had my own reasons. It was either this marriage, or jail. Do you really-"

"Evvy!" A little girl ran across the room, stopping in front of Evan and wrapping her slender arms around his legs. "I mwissed you!"

"Aww," Evan cooed, patting her head. "I missed you too, princess."

I motioned Rosa to sit down beside me, keeping my eyes on the little girl. Rosa hummed, noticing where my gaze was. "That is Evelyn. The youngest of the Farrelly family. She's adopted though," that explained her light brown hair and grey eyes. "But the whole family loves her like she's one of their own. Especially Master Stephen. She's like, his everything."

I absent mindedly smiled at the thought. Then I dropped my gaze again. "She prefers if you call her Evvy. She and Evan both share that name. It's like an invisible bond between them," Rosa continued, and then she lowered her voice. "I kind of realized what Mr. Farrelly's reason you mentioned earlier. The best way to get on Master Stephen's good side is being friends with Evelyn."

"I can't use her like that, she's just a little girl," I protested, my eyes widening as she said that.

"Oh, Randy," Rosa shook her head. "You're too good for him."

"I'm no-"

"Hellow!" That tiny chirpy voice got my attention. I looked at Evelyn, who was smiling sweetly at me, showing her perfect set of white teeth. "I'm Ewwy. Are you Steph's pwincess?"

For the first time in a long time, I laughed. "No, darling. Do I look like a girl to you?"

"No," she pouted, then beamed again. "But you have a pwetty smile!"

I laughed again, pulling her closer to me. "You have a pretty smile too, beautiful. Are you hungry?" I asked, noticing how she eyed my bowl of soup.

Nodding vigorously, she turned her doe-like eyes to Evan. Getting the hint, Evan prepared another bowl. "But," she pouted again. "It's time to watch cartoon!"

"You can watch TV and eat at the same time, sweetheart. Just be careful not to spill soup on anything," Rosa warned, handing her the bowl.

"I will," she beamed again. Sheesh, such mood swings. "Come on," he gestured to me with her free hand, reaching it out for me to take it. I cocked my eye brow.

"You want me to join you?"

"Yesh!" she stomped her foot on the ground, demanding. Chuckling lightly, I took a hold of her hand in one of mine, the other collecting my bowl of soup.

"I'll see you guys later," raising the bowl at them as a good bye, I trailed behind Evelyn. She chose a staircase that led down the ground, which probably led to the basement of the house. The lights were already flicked on, so everything was lightened up. The basement was one whole room, a 55 inch LED TV hanging on the wall with a set of Play Station 3 and a DVD Player sitting on the stand under it. A rack of movie DVDs were to the left while the other side had a small cupboard of video games. Speakers were fixed upon the surrounding walls. It was a theatre inside the house. I had only seen these types of rooms on TV.

Without my help, Evvy turned on the TV- as if she was dumb like me- and switched to the channel where the cartoons were on. I was surprised to find such a pretty little thing like her preferred si-fi, action, adventure cartoons like Generator Rex and Teen Titans. She was more like a Barbie doll and Disney girl to me. I could say that I actually enjoyed my time with her; I didn't have to pretend like someone else around her like I had to do with others. We were chatting and laughing and eating and tickling each other so much, we didn't even sense the time pass behind us.

When I actually noticed the time, I asked her if she wanted to go to sleep. She insisted watching Hercules. Shrugging, I did what she asked. I watched amused as she described what she liked and didn't like about Hercules, how he was supposed to act, what he shouldn't have done. As she had told me, she was still six years old. That moment I perfectly knew that she would be one helluva strong woman when she'll step out into the public. A few moments later she started to sound groggy, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Randy?" she mumbled.

"Hmm?" I hummed in return.

"Can I call you Ran-Ran?" She yawned so cutely. I chuckled softly, my hands wrapping around her and pulling her closer to my body.

"Yes baby," I drifted off.

I didn't know how much time passed after that. I couldn't keep track of it; I was drifting in and out of sleep. A part of me craved my bed, but another part of me was too lazy to get out of the comfortable couch. My hands curled around Evelyn even tighter when cold had hit me. A soft whine dragged out of my lips when I remembered that I turned on the air conditioner to a blast when we entered the basement. I didn't want to get up. Evelyn was the only source of heat I had. Then she was torn away from my arms. My eyes fluttered open half way, to see someone scooping Evelyn up in their arms. I shifted on the couch and then closed my eyes again, hoping that whoever it was would carry her to her room.

Then a gentle shake on my shoulders.

"Wake up," a deep voice said. I turned my head away from the voice. Faint sounds of footfalls reached my ears. Thank God, he went away. Now I could peacefully sleep. My eyes were snapped open when I was lifted up from the couch and was thrown over someone's shoulder. I blinked, recognizing that it was Stephen who was carrying me. "Put me down."

He made no comment.

"I said, put me down," I said louder, and clearer.

"Shut up," and a slap to my ass. "We're gonna have fun."

My heart jumped into my throat. What kind of fun? Just then my back hit a soft surface, a bed. I turned my head to the side, noticing the sheets were black and red. I froze. This wasn't my room. Snapping my head to the front, I gasped and sank my body down in the sheets as much as I can. Stephen was hovering over me, a dazed look in his eyes as they were fixed upon…. Not on my face. His hands crept down to my chest and then to my abs, sliding under the t-shirt. My breath hitched. I wasn't ready. I fucking wasn't ready and I won't ever be, not with Stephen, never.

I could smell a hint of alcohol Stephen had taken. He wasn't drunk, but he had had enough liquor to do something stupid like this. I tried to move underneath him, but he blocked me, pressing his body against mine. My skin tingled as his cold lips planted kisses on my neck. Nothing pleasurable, since I was afraid to death of what he would do to me. I had to get out. "Stephen please stop."

"Be a good bitch and shut up," he mumbled against my neck, nuzzling his nose against the crook.

"I said, stop!" I shouted, my hands clawing at his back. I think I did something effective, because he hissed, drawing back away from me a little. Just a little bit. Enough for me to bend my knee and kick his shin. He groaned painfully, falling to my side which gave me the ultimate advantage. I jumped out of the bed, stumbling but practically sprinting towards the door. I heard him curse out but I didn't look back, as it took my time to escape. With trembling hands I turned the door knob, leaving the door open and struggling with my own.

It was a bad thing that my room was right across from him, he could easily catch me. Just as I opened the door Stephen opened his bedroom door wider, still holding his crotch after the kick I gave him. It was just a matter of a second. I slammed my door right on his face, locking it to the extreme level. Panting I pressed my ear to the door, hearing Stephen swear from the other side. He punched the door once, and then everything went quiet. I stepped backwards keeping my eyes on the door. When the back of my knees hit the bed I let myself fall onto it, still in disbelief of what had happened.

Stephen Farrelly put his fucking hands on me.

He touched me.

And that might happen once again, sooner or later.

"You can't hide from me forever, Randal."

Those words pierced through the air, through the wooden door to my ears. It wasn't a promise, it was a vow.

**Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N] **

**Please take a moment to review and leave a comment to show your support for this story. **

**Many thanks to **_waldron82_**, **_AngelEyes2012_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_sexyablonde_**, **_RKO-flavored-skittles_**, **_shirozero_**, **_MelancholicBaby_** (especially), **_soberosie _**for reviewing. **

**LoveNHurt: **_You aren't stupid, you're one of the cleverest people I've ever seen_**. **

**Song of the Chapter: **_Scream-Adelitas Way_

**(03)**

It took an hour and a half and two visits by Evan for me to step out of the room. Well not exactly, as I was still lingering in my doorway, glowering at the bedroom door facing me which belonged to Stephen. My hands were gripping the door frame, jolts of pain shooting from my finger tips as nails dug into the wood. It would only take one step out of this room for me to be a prey for Stephen again, and there would be very little chance at escaping from him. If he was that strong when he was drunk, imagine how fucking dominant he will be when he is sober.

I didn't sign up for being a slut to him. I knew he was a playboy, but what the Hell? That didn't give him the right to almost rape me. But then again, I was his…. Eh, husband. I shivered in disgust. I am, in no way was supposed to spend my life like this.

The sound of a lock sliding off and I broke into a sprint. Hell no, I wasn't going to be his victim this early of the day. It wasn't even ten in the morning yet. Racing down the stairs, I heard his footfalls approaching. I glanced back, only to trip over my own feet. Practically yelping out in fear I flailed my arms wildly in the air as I fell. Two arms wrapped around me and pulled me up before my face smashed against the floor. Panting, I steadied myself before looking up at the person who was keeping my balance.

"Well, hello there," he smirked, his brown eyes roaming up and down me once before settling on my face. "Why rushing?"

"I, uh…." I frantically searched for something to say, but his lingering touches on my hands were distracting me. "I was-"

"Running from me," Stephen breathed in my ear, as his hand snaked around and rested on my abdomen. I cringed away, moving behind the other man who had held me seconds before. Heat was pooling in my stomach, and my skin was tingling. I saw anger flash in Stephen's eyes. Not that I cared.

"Now why would he do that?" the other's eyes sparkled in amusement as they moved back and forth from me to Stephen.

"Apparently he do-"

"That's something private, _Stephen_," I gritted out his name. And I was surprised when Stephen shrugged and changed the subject.

"Whatever," he snorted, and looked at the man. "So what are you doing here, Barrett?"

"Is that how you welcome your best friend?" Barrett said, and then turned to me, stretching out his hand. "Wade Barrett. Friend of twenty years of this obnoxious idiot."

I took his hand and shook it lightly, noticing the way Wade's thumb brushed against the back of my hand in an inappropriate way. I snatched my hand back quickly, not giving Stephen a reason to choke me to death. "I'm-"

"I know who you are," Wade smirked again, a strand of his dark hair falling to his forehead. He moved it away with his fingers, giving an annoyed look to nothing in particular. My lips twitched to laugh at him but I handled myself before I bursted into pieces.

"Right, then," I gave a nod to Wade and then without sparing a glance at Stephen, I turned my back and walked away. I heard Stephen snarl in anger. I just wished that he wouldn't take it out on me later.

_Stephen's POV:-_

Hot coffee burnt my throat lightly as I sipped a gulp in. My eyes were on the two who were rolling on the perfectly manicured lawn a few yards away from where I was. Evvy and my perfect man of a spouse were playing together on the ground, what seemed to be a tickle fight. I shook my head. What had my father thought, making me marry this immature…boy?

I had thrown lots of parties, lots of get together and charity conferences, and of all the people he had met in those events he chose a barely-adult boy to be my partner? Not that I wanted to be married in the first place. I was only twenty five, too young to be tied down. And my father knows perfectly well that I won't stay faithful to this guy, unless he would give himself up to me which wasn't going to happen anytime soon. And I doubted it would ever happen. For inheriting nothing, Randy surely owned the looks. He was one fine specimen, one that could be only compared with a Greek God. If I had known that he had owned a body like this, I would've never canceled that honeymoon trip.

It was almost impossible how this man had caught my eyes. Over the past times I had met countless beautiful women, dressed in their finest designer dresses and adorned with spectacular jewels and good looking men who wore expensive tuxedos and Italian shoes, but none of them had captivated me like this. The first time we met, on the altar, I hadn't paid much attention to him other than his lips to kiss in haste to get out of that Hell hole. Then I had noticed his eyes, electric blue, piercing through the air like knives spoke of pure sex.

The warning. It was when I warned him that I noticed how fucking good he looked. Only a towel wrapped around his waist, stark naked underneath it. Dark brown hair was cut short, but long enough to run my fingers through it to grip a handful and yank it back. Slender legs, legs that were bronzed and long. Imagine how good it would feel when I finally have this sensual man all to myself with those gorgeous legs of him wrapped around my waist. I could already feel the straining arousal in my pants that beckoned feverishly with need. I took another sip from the coffee, my throat suddenly feeling dry at the thought of tossing Randy onto his bed and sinking myself deep between his thighs.

I groaned.

"I know, right?" Barrett got my attention. "He's fucking perfect," his eyes were on Randy, who was laying on the ground on his stomach, his feet waving in the air as he listened intently at the story Evvy seemed to be telling him. I narrowed my eyes, growling. Barrett laughed. "Don't worry, dude. He's yours. Though I can't believe how an idiot like you found someone like _that_."

"You know it was my Dad, not me," I insisted, turning my attention to Randy again, catching up how perfectly sculpted his neck was when he tilted his head to laugh.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how was _it _with him?" I didn't miss the way Barrett's eyes clouded over and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Don't know. Didn't do it yet," I said, not hiding the fact that I had failed last night.

"Feisty?"

"Stubborn little bitch," I confirmed his thoughts. Shifting on the chair to hide my obvious bulge I leaned forward, scratching the back of my neck. "Won't be when I fuck him through the bed in no time. He'll be begging like a whore."

"Like everyone else did," Barrett barked out a laugh, his fingers touching the scruff on his face.

"Like everyone else," I grinned, finishing my coffee back down on the small round table and glancing at Barrett. "You wanna join 'em?"

"Nah," he checked the time from his wrist watch. "I don't have time. Came to tell you that you will have to travel with me by the end of the month to Greece for ASIKIS' contract. I heard from Jackson that they are planning to invite us over. A party on Saturday, at Golden River's."

"Aw man," I groaned. "Why Saturday? I was planning to go out with you and Ambrose to have some fun."

"Ah," sighed Barrett. "Damn. We can still do it on Sunday, yeah?"

I thought it over. Dad had the honeymoon trip rescheduled. And the flight was due on Sunday. I dismissed the thought of making my father again. I didn't need a damn honeymoon trip to fuck Randy's brains out. All I needed was a bed. Snickering, I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Steph! Come here!" Evvy screamed from where she was, wildly waving one of her hands in the air.

"That's my cue to leave, "Barrett laughed, getting up from the chair and fixing the wrinkles in his jacket. "I'll talk to you later, Farrelly."

"Sure, dude. Take care," My attention was half paid to him. Major of it was focused on Randy, who looked like he was having a fit inside as he stared at Evvy with fearful eyes. Damn right, that bitch should be scared of me. He should have known better than to reject me last night. A wicked grin stretched my lips, as I got up from the chair slowly, walking towards them.

My grin turned genuine as I shifted my gaze to Evvy, who was holding a story book to her chest. Her steel grey eyes sparkled when they looked up at me. I scooped her up in my arms, throwing her up in the air once before catching her and enveloping her in a hug. She giggled cutely, throwing her head back and laughing. I sat down on the ground right next to Randy. Stiffening when Randy moved away from me, I stifled out a few curse words to throw back at him. I mean, why was he so stubborn, having an attitude toward his legal partner?

It wasn't like we were having a real relationship, but Hell… couldn't it be at least physical? What I sensed was that he wanted to do nothing with me. And that was what exactly I was having with him, nothing. Maybe he was one of those good looking, gold digging whores. I immediately discarded the thought. Randy was anything but gold-digging. At least, those types of people dropped to their knees in front of me without hesitation, instead of being like Randy. While they bent over to my touch, Randy flipped off to it. I was that man, that can weaken anyone's knees and make their legs buckle just from one look.

So why wasn't Randy on his knees in front of me?

"Steph, can we read this?" Evvy chirped, bringing me out of my trance. I glanced at Randy from the corner of my eyes and smiled down at Evvy and nodding. I felt those hypnotizing eyes on me the whole time I read the book out loud to Evvy. It felt like they were piercing through my body into my soul. As cliché as it sounded, it was the truth. Those ceruleans were judgmental, stabbing through hardest stones to decide on something. He had a strong will, that I could not deny of. Too bad that I was going to destroy it soon anyway. I looked up once, to see that Randy was smiling. Although his gaze was intense, those perfect thin lips were stretched to the sides, curved into the softest smile that one could ever see.

My throat dried again. I swallowed, my fingers clenching around the book tightly as my eyes latched onto the sight of his lips. Someone touched my face.

"Are you owkay?" Evvy asked, her mouth pouting as she looked at me worriedly. That's when I realized that I had stopped reading for a while. I nodded back. "Then why did you stop?" then her gaze landed on Randy, who looked like he was in another world. "Ran-Ran?"

Ran-Ran?

His smile immediately disappeared as his eyes ran around nowhere in particular, until they dropped on Evvy. "Yeah, baby?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he hesitated a bit before saying it, and then those damn eyes glanced at me for the briefest moment. "Why?"

"You stopped smiling when I talked to you? Are you mad at me?" she pouted again.

"He's not mad at you, darling," I assured, planting a kiss on top of her head. "He's mad at me."

"What did you do?" Evvy asked angrily. How much time had passed since they had met? Barely a day? And look how Evvy is trying to protect him. I'm the bad guy here. I sighed.

"I did something he didn't want me to do," I muttered, averting my gaze.

"Apologize," that was a command.

"Evvy…" I warned, narrowing my eyes to slits.

"Apologize," nope, there was no escape from her.

A long, tired sigh slipped out of my mouth. "Sorry," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. Evvy looked at a dumbfounded Randy expectantly. He blinked twice, and then dropped his gaze to the ground.

"That's okay," his voice was soft, spoken like wind.

"Now kiss," Evvy demanded. With wide eyes I stared at her. "What? Isn't that how the happy ending gows?" she crossed her arms above her chest, after crawling out of my lap and sitting a feet away from me. I gulped. There was no way; I was going to kiss Randy. I never kissed anyone, kissing meant getting attached to an unwanted person which was going to be a huge problem afterwards. I barely brushed my lips against his at the wedding. "Do it," she demanded, her little face scrunching up in anger.

I looked at Randy who was frozen on the spot. There was no help from him. Why was I making such a fuss out of this? Just a peck and it would be over. I edged towards him, noticing the way his body tensed. I didn't stop until there were only a few inches between us. Raising my hand I took a hold of his chin, turning his lightly flushed face to mine. Inhaling deep I leaned forward, catching a hint of vanilla in his scent as I breathed in. All I did was pressing my lips on top of Randy's. That wasn't a kiss. Though for my sake Evvy was satisfied by it. Randy pulled away almost immediately I disconnected with his lips, jerking his body to a comfortable proximity.

"Perfect,"Evvy chirped, jumping up from the ground and patting my head. "I'm hungry." She picked up the book and skipped towards the house, Randy hastily got up, trying to run after her. I was faster, my hand shooting up in a lightning speed and grabbing onto his wrist. Standing up, I yanked him, our bodies crashing against each other by the force. Forcing back a groan as his hips slammed against my obvious erection, I locked my arms around his waist, trapping him against me. He looked uncomfortable, wriggling against me to run away. I tilted y head closer t his, and looked down into his eyes. "You shouldn't have done that last night," I watched as his frustrated face turned into shock, fear and then anger.

"You never should have touched me that way," he hissed back, his hands resting on my chest, fingers gripping handfuls of the material of my black t-shirt.

"I own you," I hissed back, tightening my hold around him. Possessive? Yes. What was mine, mine. "I can do whatever with you."

"I'm not some property to be owned," he snarled, pushing back against my arms. "You can't touch me without my permission. This is my body, and I'm the only one who controls it."

"I don't need your fucking permission. Which I doubt I will never receive," I spat, shoving him away.

"That's the point," he smiled sweetly before sneering and stormed past me, shouldering me on the way.

Gritting my teeth hard, I clenched and unclenched my fists before I exploded. That bitch needed to be taught a lesson, and it had to happen soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N]**

**Copy and paste the link below and watch the video. It's a SHANDY gift made by Cal_Wills for my birthday! I highly recommend you guys to watch this video, an read her stories here. She's an amazing writer. **

**Here's the link:** watch?v=hRSieZOHpPo

**You guys don't know how much I appreciate your reviews. All the anonymous guests (or has it been only one person?) and **_AJB66613_**, **_BritBas_**, **_Waldron82_**, **_firefoxsilver9_**, **_sexyablonde_**, **_LoveNHurt_**, **_RKO-flavored-skittles_** knows I'm thankful for their comments. Y'all rock!**

**MelancholicbBaby:**_ I'm actually I'm actually thinking about your idea about that crazy bro..._

**Will there be more Wade Barrett?: **_Of course! He adds a perfect weirdness to a story. That's why I have him in almost every one of my stories. But I doubt there'll be anything sexual between Wade and Randy... I don't know... Let's see where this flows._

**Song of the Chapter: **_Surrender-Angels & Airwaves_

**(04)**

It's been two days. Two fucking days and I still had no idea of how to 'change' Stephen. This wasn't a cliche life story; this was reality, which was never possible to escape unless you're asleep. Which I haven't been getting much lately. How could I, when my mind was awake 24/7 in alert of the sexual predator lurking beyond my bedroom door? I snorted. Carefully I stepped down the staircase, minding every step I take. I could be very clumsy when wanted, but I couldn't be now because there was no one to catch me at the bottom if I fell. I felt my cheeks burning at the thought.

What a good first impression.

I scoffed. I didn't need to make an impression on anyone. It's not like I have married Wade Barrett anyway.

'Oof,' fell out of my lips as I hit someone. Holding my throbbing nose I stepped back, fixing my eyes on... Oh.

Bright blue eyes were sparkling as they stared at me in what looked like amazement. Square jaws, straight nose, full lips combined together creating a chiseled face. I blinked.

"John Cena at your service, sir," he smiled, his smile as bright as the sun itself. My lips stretched into a smile copying him. Taking his hand and shaking it once, I let go of it. Why is it that every time I meet someone, it had to be at the bottom of the stairs and in an some kind of an embarrassing moment? "I apologize for practically running over you, sir."

"Please," I pleaded. "Don't call me sir. Or master. Or anything official. Just call me-"

"Randy?" he guessed, raising an eye brow. "Mr. Farrelly, won't like it."

"Who cares what he likes?" unable to hold myself in, I spat, my eyes shooting a heated glare. John took a step back, bowing his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown off like that," wiping a hand down my face, I watched John as he nodded silently. Wanting to escape the tension between us, I tried to change the subject. "Did Evan tell you that I prefer my name above those officials?"

"Yes," he chuckled, gesturing me to go into the kitchen first. "He really likes you. In a good way," he quickly added the last part, seeing the look on my face. "I was just coming to inform you that dinner is ready."

"What's so special about it?" I asked, sitting down on the counter.

"It's the family meal. Since there's no time for family moments, Master Farrelly use dinner time to spend some time with the rest of the family," Rosa responded, handing out dishes one by one to Evan. "Though I doubt anyone will have anything to talk about tonight."

The tone she used got me curious. "You mean because of what happened between Stephen and his Dad yesterday?"

"That," she gave a nod and then hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Master Stephen's brother is coming home tonight," Evan propped down next to me, his voice sounding a bit scared. Frowning, I looked at John who was not meeting my eyes, toeing the floor with the tip of his shoe. Rosa was also avoiding me, her back facing me as she did nothing but stare at the blank wall. I searched my head for any hint of this 'brother'. Of course I knew Stephen had an older brother, who hadn't been home for more than five years. No one ever bothered mentioning me who he really was or what he has been doing in the past years, and for the record I haven't even seen him yet, not even in a photo.

"You sound afraid," I nudged Evan's shoulder with mine, earning his attention.

"Who isn't," he mumbled, fiddling with his scrawny little fingers. My frown deepened and I turned my eyes again to John, who was staring at me. Then he flinched, like he had just realized that I had noticed his stare that had been directed to me. Flushing a deep red he averted his gaze, making a few chuckles slip out of my lips. Then I frowned again, remembering that I had been in a conversation.

"So tell me," I said, throwing an arm over Evan's shoulder. "Why is it that everyone is afraid of him?"

"You don't want to know," John interrupted, giving me a warning look.

"Fine," I grumbled at the serious tone he used, not giving me any space to argue. "So what are you? The executive chef?" John cocked an eyebrow at me, smirking.

"Actually," his smirk widened to a grin. "I'm your bodyguard."

I froze. Oh Hell no. "What did you say?" I asked in a dangerously low voice, my eyes narrowing to slits.

"Oh, you know. That annoying person who would trail behind your every step like a cute little puppy," John shrugged, as more chuckles left his lips at the incredulous look on my face.

"I don't need babysitters! I'm not eight years old!" I shouted, throwing my hands in the air.

"But you _are_ eighteen. That age is still considered a baby's age," John winked, ducking the punch I aimed at him. Even though he was only about two feet away from me, I missed it.

Evan suddenly jumped to his feet from beside me, hastily moving away. Frowning in confusion I looked ahead, seeing Stephen enter the kitchen. John glanced behind his shoulder to see what I was looking at and bowing his head in respect, he also moved away from near me, giving space for Stephen to come. I was glad this time the crowd didn't leave me alone with him.

"Why is it that we always meet in the kitchen?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Dad wants you at the table," he said, coming closer and getting into my personal space, not to mention between my legs which I didn't like. At all. His hands suddenly shot up and grabbed my hips,pulling me to the edge of the kitchen counter. I had to hold the balance myself, because there was no way that I would wrap my legs around him for support. Though, I couldn't help placing my palms on his chest so that I could lean back a little. "And then I want you in my bed," he lowered his voice, his eyes casting towards my lips.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you will never get to sleep with me?" I hissed, my hands curling the soft fabric of his shirt.

"You don't have a choice," he tilted his head, his pink lips inches away from mine. "My brother is coming home tonight. And I don't want you out of my sight," he didn't sound happy at all. What was with everybody? He couldn't be that bad, could he?

I chuckled bitterly. "What, do you think that I'll fuck _him_ before _you_?"

"Yes," he growled, glaring at me possessively. I didn't want to admit, but there was that tinge of hurt in my heart whenever he labeled me as a whore. It hurt much more at other times, since I was accused unreasonably. His grips on my hips loosened and his voice was somewhat soft when he spoke again. "I don't want him to see you, even for a second."

Composing myself before he noticed the hint of surprise on my face at the softness in his voice, I furrowed my brows. "Why?" I held onto his neck as he lifted me up from the counter and set me on my feet. Then I quickly let him go,adding space between us.

"You'll get to know. Just...not now," gestured towards the kitchen entrance, reminding me about the dinner. I sighed, giving a wave to the silent crew in the kitchen before leaving with Stephen.

XXX

It was awkwardly quiet, thick tension hanging in the air. Mr. Farrelly sat at the head of the table, his wife sitting the in the closest chair to him on the right. Opposite to her was Stephen, who was sitting right beside me. Unlike Mr. Farrelly, Stephen looked tensed. His whole body was stiffened, ever since he had taken the seat at the dining table. A few minutes ago Mr. Farrelly had announced that Brock-Stephen's brother was arriving, but still he hadn't. I was doubting if he would actually come.

Stephen hadn't even eaten, he was glowering a hole through his plate. Not that I cared, but his behavior was scaring me. What was wrong with him? "Stephen?" I leaned to his ear, breathing out. "Eat something."

He turned his face to look at me, glowering. Think I was affected? Nope. "For the sake of your father," I hissed again, placing my hand on his thigh. He glanced at where my hand was, which I hastily pulled away. Then his glare faltered, his face going out of emotion. Turning back to his food plate he picked up the fork, stabbing the food on the plate with it and picking up a few pieces of carrot cubes. Shaking my head lightly, I turned my attention back to my plate. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and I knew that they were Mr. Farrelly's. But I didn't dare look at him.

This wasn't progress.

There was no way that I would be able to change Stephen in three months- or for ever in this matter; the only solution I had was to find a way to pay the money back before these three months ended. The only problem was how to. The dinner ended uneventfully. No one arrived. I felt a bit sad when I saw Mrs. Farrelly's face, crest-fallen. That was one thing I've never done, given false promises to my parents. The only good thing that came out of this whole thing was that I got to sleep in my own room, even if it was only for one night. Taking two steps at a time I quickly got into my room, closing it behind me. Locking it for extra effect, I took the key out of the keyhole and put it in a drawer of the nightstand.

The exhaustion of not sleeping properly the two previous nights caught up with me. I could barely keep my eyes open, and with a stomach full of food sleep sounded heavenly. Not to mention that I was half asleep while in the shower. Warm water cascading down on my tired and worn out body, the water droplets gently massaging the stress away. Drying myself off, I quickly climbed into the bed, getting comfortable under the soft quilts. My eyes were drooping close, but there was a chill lingering in the air, and the sleep was slowly fading away. I blinked tiredly, my half conscious mind wondering where the sleep went. My stomach churned, hearing a loud squeal of tires sliding against concrete.

The sound made me sit up straight on the bed, my heart thudding in my chest so loud. I pulled the sheets up to my chin, covering my whole body as the chill turned colder by the passing second. Everything became silent after that, and my furiously beating heart slowed down to a normal speed. My eyes started to become heavy with sleep again. I laid back down, thinking if it was Brock who had finally come home. Or maybe it was Stephen, going to a late night party. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep someone slid under the covers, arms encircling me and pulling me against a chest.

I parted my eye lids in alert, the first thing me eyes seeing a pair of pink lips. I tried to pull away halfheartedly, placing my hands on Stephen's chest and pushing. Because of sleep my attempts were useless. A low growl reached my ears. "Stop fighting me," he hissed, swatting my hands away. I glared half consciously.

"Get out of my bed," I hit his chest once, and then watched in fascination as his pale skin on his bare chest reddening at the contact. I touched the spot, swiftly retreating my hand when his pec jumped at my touch.

"He's here," he said in a low voice, his arms tightening around me. I noticed that his voice was controlled. "I don't want you out of my sight."

I sighed. There was no way I would escape his hold. "Fine. Just... take your hands off me then."

"Why?" he questioned,one perfectly shaped ginger eye brow cocking at me.

"First of all," I started, my words cutting off by a yawn. "I don't want you touching me. Second... I'm naked," I whispered the last part, wriggling to be released from his arms.

"Really, now?" he grinned, his eyes darkening as they glanced at my lips. There was that tingling sensation in the pitch of my stomach again, heat collecting in my abdomen. I couldn't deny, Stephen had 'that' effect on me. Who didn't? Stephen was eye candy, one of a kind. Then his grin faltered, his eye lids hiding the emeralds from me. "Don't worry," his voice was controlled again, this time more wary. "I won't try anything tonight."

Something in his tone made me believe that he may do what he told. But the bigger part of me was wary of every one of his actions, even his sighing. A soft yawn slipped out of his lips, and he buried his face against my neck. I was tempted to pull away, but I didn't, waiting until Stephen finally fell asleep. It took a few minutes until his breathing came out in an even pace. As if my fingers had their own mind, they touched Stephen's red hair, running through it feeling the silky softness. He sighed softly in his sleep, his head tilting a bit at the touch. This almost made me smile, 'almost' being the keyword.

I wondered how he came into my room, when I had locked the door in the firs place. Maybe he had a spare key, which was not good. Sleep was long gone, and I was wide awake. My throat felt dry, so my hand wandered to the nightstand, where I usually kept a glass of water in it. As I adjusted on the bed, Stephen's face slid down from the crook of my neck to my chest, his cold lips brushing against my nipple. Blushing furiously, I grabbed his head and gently pushed him away from me, slipping out of the bed. Swallowing thickly, I went to the closet and opened it, where Evan had put some clothes for me the other day. Throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

Not making a sound I opened my bedroom door- which, surprisingly I found locked- and got into the hallway. I made my way into the kitchen, again feeling that certain chill running down my spine. I shivered, taking out a glass from the pantry cupboard and filling it with water. The nausea in my stomach grew as I downed the cold water down my throat. I stopped drinking, frowning as something twisted inside me. Was I getting the consequences of lying to Mr. Farrelly? Was I having stomach flue?

Then something burned into me. It was a gaze; piercing, and heated, cold and calculating. I froze for a few seconds, gripping the glass tightly in my hand. Gaining some courage after a few moments I slowly turned around, anticipating the worst. And it was.

Icy blue eyes were staring at me, roaming all over my face, my body, everywhere they could reach for. Involuntarily I shivered, my gaze landing on a man who looked to be in his early thirties, cropped blonde hair, with a bulky frame. He was larger than Stephen; Hell, he was larger than John himself, and had a menacing look etched onto his features. He took a step into the kitchen.

That was it. I lost all my cool and gasped, the glass slipping out of my hand and crashing to the floor, shattering to pieces. Being the naive teenager I am, I stepped right on the sharp pieces of glass. Hissing when a piece pierced through the skin on my left foot, I placed my hands on the counter and held on to it. Jolts of pain shot from my leg, and I whimpered, unable to walk. My heart was racing, beating in my ears like bass drums as the man stepped closer to me. Just the sight of him alone made me afraid, so imagine him coming closer. Cursing inwardly at my stupidity I tried to step back, losing my balance and nearly falling to the floor. His arms went around me and caught me before I hit the floor, lifting me up from the ground.

"Let me go," I whimpered, a hint of dread creeping into me as his touch sent chills all over my body. He didn't say anything, carrying me out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Please," I pleaded, writhing uncomfortably in his arms as a numbing feeling took over my injured leg. My toes curled at the pain, and I could feel blood dripping from the wound. Then I froze, my breathe hitching at the man who emerged from the living room entrance.

"Take your hands off him."

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N]**

**KellyK200769: **_It's *Stephen, hun. Not Steven._

**TheGirlInPinkScarf: **_No probs, LOL. Glad you enjoyed it._

**Leoxrko: **_You are so sure about Stephen and Randy being together, I don't even want to break them apart, LOL._

**Shirozero: **_I think you're the only one who did it._

**MelancholicBaby: **_You feel like that because you're totally into this story. _

**AJB66613: **_Just be patient, you'll see *Evil smile._

**Waldron82, LoveNHurt, sexyablonde, CandiasnaFeels: **_Thanks for your reviews, babes._

**(05)**

"Little brother…."

Brock said, his voice somewhat identical to a hyena's. his chest vibrated as he chuckled, making a shiver run through me again. Keeping my toes curled, so the force of the jolts of pain that shot from the wound was mild, I squirmed in his arms.

"I said, take your hands off him," Stephen growled, taking a threatening step towards us. Like he could do anything. Brock didn't even seemed to be phased by the look on Stephen's face, while my body started to tremble at the anger that was radiating off him, the vein on his neck prominent with emotion. However though, Brock gently let down my lower half, like he was afraid of hurting me. which I doubt. His hands gently shoved me towards Stephen, who caught me easily. His hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to his side. i went behind him, peeking an eye out at Brock, whose cold, icy eyes were staring a hole through me.

I quickly retreated my face behind Stephen again, resting my forehead against his back. I held on to his hips, while he seemed to glare at his brother heatedly. "Stay away from him, Brock," his voice was low, the words coming out of his lips dangerously slow.

"What, are you afraid-"

"I'm _not _afraid," he said through gritted teeth, and I felt his tensed body tensing even more. "I don't want _that same thing_ happening again. Not again."

"It sounds like you don't trust your pretty little thing, eh?" I could hear a smirk in his voice. Stephen's fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly, as he kept quiet. "I thought so."

"Don't stick your nose in my business, Brock," Stephen snapped, the muscles in his body rippling in rage. "You better stay away from him."

The whimper that I so tiredly struggled to keep in slippd out of my lips. My whole leg was numb at the moent, but I could feel blood dripping out of my wound and onto the floor, pooling around my heel. Stephen turned around and faced me, his arms locking around my waist for support and lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around him and my hands around his neck, burying my face against the crook of his neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, because I knew that if I opened them, I would have to look at Brock.

And that would just break me down. There was something in that man, something really bad that made me want to run away and never come back. just the sight of him was intimidating, and he was worse than Stephen himself. I knew that I was touching Stephen, Hell, I was practically clinging onto him, but the situation held me back from compaining about it. Although reluctantly, I had to admit that with his arms around me it felt safe. I felt Brock's piercing stare on us when we climbed the stairs, cold and greedy.

I opened my eyes when my butt was placed on a cold surface, which was the tiled counter of the bathroom attached to my bedroom. I tightened my arms arouncd when he attempted to pull away, not letting him go. Something was shaking. My vision was shaking. And then I realized it was me, what was shaking.

"Hands off," the tone f his voice was harsh. I slowly retreated my arms,drawing them back and wrapping them around myself. I pursedmy lips, raising my eyes to look at him. His face was still hardened with anger, which made my gaze drop to the floor again. Then my face was whipped to the side. It took me a moment to realize that I had been slapped by him. I bit my lip and kept my eyes on the floor, because I knew that if I shifted them, the hot tears that had pooled will slip out. "Did I not tell you not to leave my sight?"

I flinched visibly, at the tone of his voice. I could only shake my head, slowly. Then he grabbed my jaws with his hand, jerking my face up and forcing me to look at him. "Answer me." The tears slipped out, running down my cheeks.

"Yes," I desperately tried to make it sound not like a whimper, but I failed. I blinked, desperately trying to stop the tears, but I failed, again. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't take away what happened, Randy. I didn't want him to see you," he hissed in my face. "Now, not only he saw you, but he touched you."

"It's not like you could hide me forever, Stephen," I whispered. "He must have seen me from the Magazines and in News."

"I don't want you to end up like hi-" he let go of my jaws, suddenly stopping at mid sentence. Then he pulled back, running a hand through his already messed up red hair in frustration. Cursing under his breath he squeezed his eyes shut. There was something that everyone was hiding from me, I sensed it. It wasn't my place to ask about it though, I knew I had to wait until someone willingly tell me about it.

"Stephen?" I called out, my voice barely audible. He opened his eyes, those emerald orbs roaming around my face and searching something. Then he suddenly shot forward, his lips crashing down on mine. Instinctively my hands shot up, placing on his chest and pushing him away. He was too strong though, his mouth forcing on mine in a brutal kiss. I couldn't even kiss, my lungs burning with lack of air as he assualted my bottom lip, sucking and biting down. Pulling away for a brief second, he took in a breath before his mouth landed on me again, capturing a kiss.

My mind was clouded, as his hands roamed all over me, slowly like they wanted to mesmerize every inch of it. Dizziness was overtaking me, and I felt like my head was swimming. The hands that were pusing him away stopped their work, fingers curling and fisting a handful of the material of his t-shirt. A part of me wanted to pull away, but the numbness in my mind and the pain in the wound distracted me, along with the sensation Stephen was giving me in the kiss. A sharp jolt of pain shot up from the wound, a pained whine escaping my lips at that moment.

Slightly panting, Stephen pulled away. He turned his back to me and walked over to the sink and put what looked like the piece of glass that were stuck into my foot on the rim. It was covered in blood, drops dripping down from it. Wincing, I looked away, feeling the numb feeling taking over my leg again. Then it dawned to me; the kiss had been the distractyion to get that piece out of me. Something tugged the corner of my heart. I wiped the stray tears away from my cheeks, just before Stephen returned with the first aid box.

Sleep came down as a heavy force on me, and my eye lids weighed like tons of bricks. I wanted to fall asleep right then anad there, but Stephen was working on my wound again. I leaned back and rested my back against the wall, letting my eyes droop close. The alcohol smell burned my nose, and it burned like Hell when it was dabbed over the wound. Hissing, I tried to pull away but Stephen caught my ankle, forcing i to stay on one place. Then the burning faded away, and a cool ointment was smeared. I sighed this time, closing my eyes again. I didn't know how much time it took.

But I felt him lifting me up again and carrying, placing on the bed. I was only half conscious, so I let Stephen take off my shirt. His fingers hooked on to the waistline of my boxers then, which made me wriggle on the bed in alert. "I told you I'm not gonna try anything tonight, Randy." Then I stopped struggling, going limp until he yanked the boxers off me. Before he see anyhing though, I quickly pulled the comforter over me, hiding my naked self under it. He snickered, and then took off his shirt. I turned to my side, blocking my view from him. He slid into the bed from behind me.

"Turn around," he growled, and I felt my body obeying to him. There was seriously something wrong with me tonight. A part of me couldn't be controlled, and it was on the loose. As soon as I faced him, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. My hand crawled up his chest and stopped at his neck.I brushed my finger tips over the skin there, feeling his still prominent vein.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, pressing my face into his neck. I couldn't even understand why I was worried about this man's anger, why I was worried about what he thought of me. The biggest fear hit my mind. He was changing me. He was doing what I was supposed to do. Insecurity creeped into me, and I couldn't help a sob breaking out. I was going to fail, and I was going to be stuck in this prison forever. I won't ever be able to enjoy the life any other normal person would have.

Stephen's lips brushed against my forehead. Hid hand soothed the bare skin on my back. With tears escaping out of my closed eye lids, I fell asleep, into a dreamless night.

X

A yawn parted my lips, and my eyes fluttered open. Blinking furiously to chase away the burning sensation in my eyes. Then I turned on the bed, lying on myback and staring up at the ceiling. Well... I couldn't exactly see the ceiling because of the roof-kind of thing the bed sported. Such stupid thoughts in early morning. I flexed my toes, noticing that the wound in my foot was half healed, and I could actaully twist andturn from my ankle. But still small sparks of pain erupted from it, so I decided that it was best not to overuse that leg. How was I supposed to go to the bathroom? Maybe I could limp; jump from one leg.

A door creaked open, and I realized that it was the door to my bathroom. Stephen stormed out of it, not realizing that I was awake. I watched as he walked to the closet, where a folded set of new clothes were placed on a nearby chair. His back was to me, and he was wearing only his boxer shorts. My eyes were on his thighs, which looked like they were sculpeted Greek artists. He hooked his fingers to the waistline of his boxers, yanking them down. My cheeks burst into flames and I quickly looked away. To my un-luck, I caught a flash of his pale skinned, bubble butt, which was begging me to put my hands on it. My face burned in humiliation at the thought.

God, I was desperate. Groaning, I buried my face in my pillow.

"You awake, sunshine?" he asked, humour coating his voice. I grunted in annoyence. It was obvious that he knew that I saw him naked, on his backside. I peeked with one eye, and noticed that he was now buttoning up a light green shirt. It was tucked under a pair of black suit pants, and he already had on shoes. I frowned.

"Where are you going?"

He faced me, raising an eye brow. "What does it look like? A party?"

"Just answer the damn question," I demanded, wrapping the sheets around my waist and sitting straight on the bed.

"If only you were demanding on other things," he muttered, picking up a green tie, which matched his eyes. He walked over to the bed, throwing the sheets aside where my feet was. Taking a hold of my ankle, he turned it to the side, examining the bandaged wound on my foot. "How does it feel?"

"Hurts a bit," I mumbled, trying not to wince as he let go of my ankle. He wrapped the tie around his neck, trying to put on the knot. But he was struggling, I could tell. So I knelt on the bed, leaning closer to him and swatting his hands away.

"You're stupid, you know that right?" I cocked an eye brow, trying to ignore the tingling feeling I got as his hands creeped onto my hips and grabbed them.

"You're not the only one to tell me that," he grumbled.

"How come you don't know how to put on a tie?"

"I don't like to wear suits. If I have to, I prefer Tuxedos. But there's this meeting, Dad wanted me to wear a suit to," he grumbled again. My lips twitched to curve into a smile, but I held back. "You know," his voice dropped into a low tone, "I hit you pretty hard last night." His fingers brushed against my right cheek, and istung. Hissing, I tilted my head away from his touch.

"It's done," I said, leaning away from him. It was only then that I felt the soreness on my cheek. I ignored what he said; I didn't want to talk about it.

But he leaned forward,his lips landing on my abused cheek. Then they travelled lower, to the corner of my lips. I froze, my body going rigid remembering last night. Just as those lips connected with mine, a knock was heard. Before anyone could give permission to enter though, the door opened. I hastily pulled away from stephen, wrapping the sheets tightly around me to hide my nakedness. Mr. Farrelly, poked his head in and gave a small smile to me.

"Good morning," he greeted, and I nodded in return. Then he looked at Stephen, his smile faltering. "It's time for us to go," then he disappeared again, closing the door. Stephen sighed, and turned to me.

"John will keep company for you for the day. I'll be home by six. Just... Don't go out of the room,"he said, his eyes running over me once before his hand went behind me and grabbed the back of my neck, pushing my head forward. His lips slammed against mine, making that dizzy feeling overwhelm me again. It was luck that pulled him away before I could respond, because he would've known that I was surrendering.I whined in irritation as he chuckled, picking up his suit jacket on the way out of the room.

I groaned, letting myself fall into the bed again. My eyes drifted close again, and a faint scent of strong cologne reached my nose as I buried my face in the pillow next to mine.

**Eh? What does it feel like? Filler chapter?**


	6. Chapter 6

**[A/N]**

**TigerSuplex: **_Can you sense him changing?_

**CandiasnaFeels: **_I'd prefer the word, 'possessive.'_

_MelancholicBaby_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_Waldron82_**, **_sexyablonde_**, **_LoveNHurt_**, **_shirozero_**, **_leoxrko_** (my baby), **_CoureyCollins-Glass_**, **_Lyra_** has my respect for reviewing the previous chapter. I'm more than happy to know that you are enjoying it. **

**Song of the Chapter: **_Wake up-Three Days Grace_

**(06)**

I sighed.

"Stop it," he said. My eye brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"I said, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"How many times have you sighed now? Hundred and one?" John cocked his eye brow, slight irritation clear on his face."It's not healthy."

"Really?" I wondered. Then sighed again just to annoy John. He just shook his head and then continued looking out of the window panel. I've been trying to get him noticed how uncomfortable I was in the room, but he didn't seem to. That, or he was purposefully ignoring me. "Johnnnnyyyy," I whined, stretching out on the bed like a cat. "Let's go out!"

"Do not call me that," he said in a firm voice, his eyes hard and narrowed and running up and down me once. "And no, we can't go out."

"Pleeeease," I pouted, widening my eyes. A spark of hope lit my heart when John pursed his lips and stared at me for a few seconds, but then he looked away, mumbling a 'no'. Huffing, I pulled the sheets over my head, so that no part of my body was visible.

"Randy," I heard him call, but it wasn't me who paid him any attention. "Randy...? Mr. Farrelly?"

"What?!" I shrieked, throwing the sheets off my face.

"Okay, you can go back to sleeping," John chuckled. "Just made sure that you weren't dead."

"I will be, if I stayed locked up in this room for another hour," my bitter tone made him look at me in concern.

"You perfectly know that I can't take you out, Randy. I was ordered not to. I can't disobey my boss," he scratched the back of his head.

"But he's not here;" I whined again, "what he doesn't know wouldn't kill him."

"True," John gave a nod. "But you must understand that I am not the only bodyguard in this house. I'm on the highest place and many would like to kill to be in this spot. What kept me this spot was my loyalty to your husband. And one word from others to him about disobeying, the next second I would be on my way to home…. Or hospital."

"Fine," I gave up, after moments of silence. "Then go get me some clothes."

"You're naked underneath?" A teasing grin spread across John's lips. "Well, well."

"You perve! Stop gawking and get me some clothes," my cheeks were hot from embarrassment.

"Alright, alright," he raised his hands in defense, the grin still on his face. "But just because I'm your bodyguard doesn't mean I'm your slave."

"John!"

"Going!" he shot up from the window sill, storming across the room to where the closet was. I swear, John could be so annoying some times, but he couldn't be, without a tinge of cuteness. "So… what do you want to wear?"

"Boxers and a t-shirt…. A long one," I corrected, when John sent me an incredulous look. "Stop looking at me like that."

"No offense," John closed the closet and sauntered over to the bed. "But you are extremely bitchy today."

"What do you think the reason for it is?" I rolled my eyes, taking the clothes and reaching out to John. "Help me?"

"You can't walk because?" John raised a brow, frowning at me. I pursed my lips, pretending as if I didn't hear what he asked. Holding the sheets around my waist tightly, I put an arm around John's shoulder, leaning against him as I slid out of the bed slowly. Placing the good foot on the floor, I hopped over to the bathroom with John's help. He glanced at me from the corners of his eyes, giving an awkward but concerned glance. "Randy what happened?"

"Nothing," I wasn't sure if I was allowed to say what happened to anyone. I was more than glad when John didn't seem to press the subject. He opened up the bathroom door for me, waiting until I stumbled in.

"You sure you can manage?" he asked, worry lacing his voice. I smiled and patted his cheek.

"Don't you worry, puppy, I'll be fine," I closed the door, a smile twitching at my lips as his laughter reached my ears. Since John was not here, help for me to dress was provided by the sink. I had to hold onto it the whole time and even sit on the rim of it when I had to put on the boxers. It took me a moment to realize that the shirt must be of Stephen's. Because, I sure as hell wasn't this big. Then again, why was I having _his_ clothes in _my_ closet?

John was standing right beside the door when I exited the bathroom. His hand immediately went around my waist, his eyes still on my exposed legs for a few seconds. He whistled, making the goofiest face. "Ever thought of modeling?"

"Ew," I scrunched up my face, a disgusted expression taking over. "It's for girls. I wanted to be a writer."

"You _wanted_?"

"You think I will be?" I sat down on the bed, giving him a dull face. "It requires time and money. Which I don't have at this time."

"But-"

"It's his money. Not mine," I looked away, averting my gaze on my hands that were folded on my lap. "John…. Help me," I whispered, knowing that John understood what I meant. He sat down on the bed beside me, taking a hold of my chin and turned my face to him.

"I can't," his voice was soft, and so were his sapphire eyes. "You are the one who needs to solve this problem. I see why Mr. Farrelly chose you. And I have faith, faith and hope in you. I know you can do it. I can't help you, but I promise to be there by your side every second of it."

I rested my head on his shoulder, looking at nowhere in particular. Although I believed every one of John's words, I felt empty. He had faith and hope in me, but I didn't have them in myself. A beep was heard, and I pulled away from John to see him holding his index finger at his earpiece, talking to someone on the other side. His arm was still around my waist, holding tightly. Then he looked at me, his fingers brushing over my cheek lightly. I realized I had been crying. "Your things are here."

"My things?"

"Your stuff from your home," John stood up, glancing at the door. "I have to leave you for ten minutes. Promise not to sneak out of your room while I'm gone? You don't want me to get in trouble do you? If you did sneak out, you won't like the consequences," he narrowed his eyes, as if trying to look intimidating. I waved him away.

"What are you going to do? Cuff me to the bed?"

"I see that you like kinky stuff. You must be superb in the bed," he grinned mischievously, laughing at the deep blush on my cheeks. I chucked a pillow at him, but fortunately for him it hit the door, as he managed to slip out just in time. Scoffing, I laid on my back in the bed, my legs dangling off the edge. John was the reason I coped with life here, especially with Stephen. If it wasn't for him, I would have run away days ago. I wondered why I hadn't met John before all this, because he seemed like the person everyone asked for. He knew how to make one happy, unlike some people who only knew to inflict pain upon others.

I crawled up the bed, closing the gap to the nightstand. Opening up the drawer, I took out the ointment and plaster which Stephen had ordered Rosa to put there. It was time to change the bandages. Wincing when the piece of cotton fell out as soon as I unwrapped the bandages, I dumped them in the nearby waste basket. The cut had stopped bleeding, but it still hurt when the skin on my foot stretched. Cleaning it with spirit, I applied the healing ointment and a cotton ball was placed over it so it was easier to bandage. I jumped when my eyes caught John who was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me.

"Oh," he blinked. "Sorry if I scared you. I was just…. Did you take all the glass pieces out of the cut?"

"I guess…. Stephen was the one cleaned it," my cheeks colored at the thought of last night. How his lips felt against mine, how his fingers brushed against my skin, I was all worked up. As much as I didn't want him touching me, there was so little I could do to prevent him from doing it. That didn't mean I was going to give up, surrender, submit to him. "If you knew how it happened why did you question me about it?"

"I was asking what made you break, or drop that glass," he cocked an eyebrow, swatting my hands away and crouching down in front of me, bandaging my leg himself. He finished it quickly, standing up and hurrying over to the door again.

"How do you know it was me who dropped it?" I asked, watching him pick up a bronze painted trunk and place it in the bed.

"Figured you'd be clumsy enough to do such a thing," he gave a teasing smile, taking the seat beside me again. "Or it could be Mr. Farrelly, but he was never a clumsy person in the first place."

"Right," my tone was flat. I curiously waited until John unlocked the trunk, and open the lid. "All my stuff is here?"

"I think so, if you owned this much."

"Is there a problem?" I said in a demanding tone, putting my hands on my hips.

"Nope," his lips created the perfect 'O'. "Not at all. I was wondering… how many friends you have."

"None," I simply said, not caring the surprised look John gave me. "Never even one in my life."

"You're lying," John shook his head in disbelief. I rummaged through my stuff, shrugging.

"I never lie."

My fingers ghosted over a blue box. I picked it up, running touches over the royal blue, smooth, velvet cloth, my heart wrenching at the sight of it. Sadness filled me, remembering my mom's words when she handed this to me. I opened it, taking out the silver chain that had been hooked in it. My eyes landed on the pendant, the Aries star sign staring back at me with glowing red gems as eyes. John's hand cupped mine, gliding it over to him and examining. "It matches your wedding ring."

Scoffing, I snatched my hand away from him. "Don't compare this necklace to that shit."

"I wasn't," he sighed and stood up, going behind me. Taking it from my hand he clasped it around my neck, his finger pads touching the skin on the back of my neck sending tingles through my spine. "There."

"Thank yo-"

Suddenly, the door burst opened. My head snapped to the direction, my blood turning cold at the sight.

"Sir," I heard John say, stepping away from me.

"Out," Brock barked out, gesturing towards the door looking at John. I was tempted to grab John's hand and stop him, but I knew even if I did, John was nothing against Brock. My heart started to race in a fast speed, my chest rising and falling heavily as John exited the room with a final worried glance at me. The same feelings as last night washed over me, my guts twisting, and nausea rolling through my stomach. I was suddenly aware that I was almost half naked. Pulling the sheets over me, I hid my legs, which didn't go unnoticed by Brock, who was stepping towards the bed.

I pursed my lips to force back another whimper, hating that Brock had that intimidating effect on me. he rounded the bed, his hand on the bed post and stared at me for a moment, before going over to the window and sitting down on the sill, just like John had been some time ago. I lifted my legs and folded them underneath me, carefully so I did not crush my injured foot. Then I fixed my eyes on my hands. Anxiety was rolling through me, mixed with slight fear. What was this man doing here?

And he wasn't doing anything being here also, but not that I want him to. He just sat there, staring at me with his piercing, cold icy eyes. I gulped the tension increasing as the silence was kept. From the corner of my eyes I glanced at him, noticing that he was still looking at me. If it was Stephen, I would've sarcastically remarked and have stormed out of the room. But one, I could not walk straight and two, this was not Stephen. This was Brock, gazing at me as if I was an alien. As minutes passed, the fear I had on him passed, and frustration crawled through me. Was he going to sit there all day and get me in trouble? Scoffing to myself, I pulled the trunk towards me, completely ignoring the fact that there was someone else in the room with me.

Tossing the few clothes I owned to the side of the bed, I looked at the things that were placed in the bottom of the wooden box. A small photo collector caught my eyes, and I reached out and took it in my hand. I remembered how Mom used to take pictures on special occasions, and stick them to the book and decorate the pages with colorful star shaped stickers. A sigh left my lips. I opened the page, the first picture being Mom holding me the day I was born. I could now see the tired and worn out look on her face, which I had failed to see a few years ago. The next picture was of me celebrating my three year birthday, well; actually the picture was of me smearing icing all over Dad's face.

The next pictures were of me at the first day of school, my eyes red and puffy from crying, and the day I had became the first place in a swimming competition, and a picture of the day I had to get braces for my teeth. The only missing picture was of the graduation, which must still be at my school. As soon as I could walk, I would have to visit my school. That photograph was to be the most precious thing that I would own for the rest of my life. I blinked away the tears before they fell off my eyes, I didn't want to look like a cry baby in front of Brock.

Brock…

I had almost forgotten that he was still in the room with me. I looked up, to see him still at the window. His face was a mask of emptiness. There was something hidden behind those eyes, something that I doubt I will ever reach for. Gathering up courage, I inhaled deeply. "Why are you here?" I attempted my voice to sound soft and gentle, but even I could hear the hint of dread tainting the words.

He simply cocked his head to the side. My heart skipped a beat at his action, though it was not something to be afraid of. "If Stephen co-"

He scoffed, his face twisting in storage emotion. "I don't care about him."

The low, but high pitched voice echoed through the room. The dread in me worsened. "You'll get me in trouble."

"How so?" he wondered, a smirk playing at his lips. I resisted the urge to slap him. Who did he think he was? Well, one thing was clear; there was no way that I would be able to stay away from Brock. If I didn't go out, he would force his way in. just. Like. Stephen. A deep scowl settled on my face.

"I don't want a repeat of last night, Brock."

"Nobody wants a repeat of what happened," his voice became somewhat soft, eyes casting downwards for a second before rising up and locking with mine. I averted my gaze, unable to look at him. There was it again. Hints of something horrid that has happened in the past. Every passing minute my curiosity increased and there was this part in my mind that told me this same curiosity will get me in trouble. I snapped my eyes to Brock, when his heavy footfalls were heard. He came near the bed, inching closer to me. I slid up the bed as much as I can, until my back hit the headrest.

My heart was beating so loud, that I was sure even Brock could hear it. My breaths came out ragged, as I opened my mouth to warn him to stop coming any closer. Just as I parted my lips, his hand shot up and grabbed my jaws. I whimpered, trying to push his hand away. His grip was causing my teeth to grind in a painful way, and jolts of pain shot up through my jaws.

"And I wonder, if you are going to end up just like _him_."

His grip on me disappeared, and I breathed heavily as he parted away from me. He walked backwards, keeping his eyes on me and then opened the door, slipping through it to the hallway. Sinking into the bed, I pulled the photo collector against my chest, curling my fingers around it tightly. My poor heart was still hammering in my chest, and my body was slightly trembling. My mind was on frenzy. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine happy things to wash away the horrible feeling I got when Brock touched me. What he said echoed through my mind, word by word. I was dying to ask who this person was, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what Stephen would do to me if I did. Last night, he almost lost control.

And the next time, I might be the reason for him to lose control.


	7. Chapter 7

**[A/N]**

**A lot of you said that you missed Stephen. I'm surprised… Because he's sort of a bad guy in the story. Anyway, I'll fulfill your wishes. The first part of this chapter is on Stephen's POV. Still having trouble in writing in his POV. And… it will be sometime until you all get to know who 'he' is. One hint; he isn't dead.**

**Many thanks to** _shirozero_**, **_leoxrko_**, **_RubyxLucas_**, **_LoveNHurt_**, **_MelancholicBaby_**, **_waldron82_**, **_sexyablonde_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_Misty Uchiha_**, **_Averyy4life_**, for reviewing the previous chapter. As always, your reviews are what keep me going.**

**Evan7:** _Thanks for the compliment, babe._

**LoveNHurt:** _Not sure… I guess there will be, but… I'll be a meanie and make you wait until the end. Your second question, no killings. By the way, I'm still waiting for you to open an account here and post stories. (Thanks for pointing out that mistake, babe.)_

**Song of the Chapter: **_Shapeshifter-Celldweller ft. Styles of Beyond_

**(07)**

_Stephen's POV_

"Farrelly?"

Reluctantly, I averted my eyes to Ambrose, who was glaring at me from the other side of the office desk. I cocked an eye brow at him, waiting until he say what he wanted. But he just narrowed his eyes at me, his jaws clenching and unclenching in possibly, irritation. I only gave him a few seconds, but he seemed to waste it. I turned my attention back to where it was.

"Farrelly, stop gawking at that slut and get on with this project," Ambrose said through gritted teeth. Not my fault, that he often got frustrated with me.

"She's not a slut," I flashed a glare, glancing once at Toress before focusing on the computer screen.

"I don't even want to know why you're still keeping her as your secretary, when she has no skill at all. Except for…" I could hear the smirk in his voice and I couldn't help but smirk as well. Then he snorted.

"Are you on PMS or something, Dean?" my fingers automatically typed down some words, as I looked at Ambrose. "Such mood swings are not healthy."

"Look who's talking," he rolled his eyes, his smirk widening. "Whoring around is also not healthy, Farrelly."

I froze, tilting my head slowly to stare at him. "What are you hinting at, Ambrose?"

He leaned forward in his seat, copying me and tilting his head to the side. "Don't tell me you didn't fuck that slut twice already, dude." His voice was icy.

I narrowed my eyes for a few seconds and gazed at him, trying to figure him out. Even after about fifteen years, I was still trying to get on with Dean Ambrose. I didn't blame some for wondering how we were friends in the first place. Pursing my lips, I was the first to avert my eyes, a heavy feeling weighing down my chest. "I'm a man, Ambrose. I have my needs."

"You're just a horny bastard."

"Ambrose!" I growled, gritting my teeth. I clenched my fists, sensing that I would punch Ambrose if he said another word like that.

"Don't try to deny that, Farrelly. You are a married man," Ambrose pulled back, his face going blank and wiping out of emotion. "You have someon-"

"You of all people know very well that I do not want to have any connections with him."

Ambrose cocked an eye brow, resting his head on his balled up fist. "Is that it? Or is it that unlike others who practically beg you to fuck them, this man prefers to flip you off?"

I gritted my teeth harder.

"Is it that he plays hard to get?"

"If you know everything, why are you asking me about it?" I hissed, glaring heatedly at the brown haired man with mischievous eyes that was sitting at the other side of the desk.

"I like to rub it in your face that the mighty Stephen Farrelly is failing at least one thing in this world. Getting his own husband surrender to him," Ambrose chuckled humorously, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Even after all these years, my respect for your father is growing. He knows how to choose perfectly. And I'm completely agreeing with him in this case."

"Some friend you are," I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at Ambrose. Rage was rolling inside me. His words were echoing through my empty mind, and I knew that what he said was true. I wouldn't ever admit it out loud.

"Look, Stephen," he rarely ever used my first name. "Unbeknownst to you, you are already dragging yourself down the path to hell. You have become blinded by your massive, obnoxious ego; you don't even know what your behavior is causing the ones who really know you. To an outsider, you may seem like a confident, successful businessman, but the reality is that you're a ruthless, insubordinate playboy. And that is not good for your future and the future of this company." He then sighed.

I waited a moment; until he made sure he had nothing else to say. "Are you done? Let's get on with the work."

"Farrelly…" There we were in square one again.

"I said, let's get on with this project, Ambrose," he made no comment at my finalizing tone.

XXX

Cutting off the engine I got out of the car, a knotting feeling starting to grow in my stomach as I looked at the mansion. It looked gloomy, under the darkened sky even if the whole house was lightened up. A flash of lightening tore across the sky, thunder racing past it and rumbling the sky. It was going to rain. I quickly hopped up the marble stairs, ignoring the pleasant smile that Bourne gave me as he opened the doors for me. My mind was only focused on Randy, who had invaded my mind the whole day for no apparent reason.

Though I didn't feel that much comfortable leaving him to Cena for the day, I still felt like something might have happened. For the briefest second, I wondered why I cared. He _was_ my responsibility, until at least I… divorced him. Not that I was going to keep him anyway, I'm not a baby that would need someone to lead my life with. I was a fucking man and I had everything I needed, so why bothering. It took me a moment to realize that I had stopped the middle of the staircase. Shrugging the uneasy feeling off, I continued my way up.

Unintentionally my body paused at Randy's door, my hand reaching out to touch the door knob. Just one more inch, and I would twist it and open it… and I would be face to face with Randy…. Which I did not want. Forcing my hand back to my side, I stepped away from the door, turning my back to it. What I did was, unlocking my own door and wrenching it open. Something boiled inside me, a certain feeling craving something… or someone.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Snarling in frustration, I back-handed the vase that was placed on the mirror attached stand to the right of me. Ignoring the stinging feeling that burned my hand, I quickly discarded the office suit I wore. Tossing them to wherever they landed, I grabbed some a pair of black cargo shorts, heading over to the bathroom. A shower was the best damn thing that would ease me off. I didn't know how much it took me, but I didn't come out until I started to feel numb. Numb, but fresh.

Drying off, I pulled on the shorts, slinging the towel over my shoulder and re-entering the room. Looking at the mess I had made, I winced.

"Looks like someone's had a bit of a temper, eh?" Brock chuckled. My eyes snapped to his, noticing that he had been in my room all the time since I've been in the shower. Instinctively my eyes narrowed, glancing back and forth at the shattered glass pieces and Brock who had a shit eating grin in his face. Not answering, I walked over to the closet again for a shirt. "Come on, bro. You can't ignore me forever."

"I wasn't," I muttered, pulling the random t-shirt that reached my hand on.

"Look, I know you can't forgive me for what I've done," I froze. What was he trying to play at? "But you can't go one and pretend like you don't have a brother. And you can't deny that I did what I did for a fair reason. If you were in my shoes, you'd do the same. But that doesn't mean what I did was wrong."

I turned to face him, my face creating a perfect blank mask while my insides were swirling furiously, erupting a storm. The hand I had on the door knob tightened, my knuckles turning white at the force. Brock has never opened up like this. So, what was up with him now. I moved away, when he neared me. He opened the door slowly, his eyes casted to the floor. Then he raised them, and I was surprised. Fucking surprised that I could see honesty in his eyes.

Then, in a flash his eyes darkened, his lips curving to a twisted smile. "And I don't regret it. If you weren't careful of your pretty thing, expect a repeat of the last time. But it would be sweeter than the last, because he has those certain eyes, those eyes which scream that he's a pain slut. I would very much enjoy tearing him to pieces."

Then he flashed a crooked grin, stepping out into the hallway. My heart skipped a beat. A low growl escaped my lips. "Motherfucking…" I grabbed Brock's shoulders and turned him around. My fist crashed against his jaw, and he stumbled back a step, holding the spot. Another landed in his guts, repeatedly. He doubled over, but somehow he managed to kick my legs, making me trip and fall, landing on my back. Brock jumped on top of me, punching hard. My cheek throbbed painfully, and I felt him grab my head. It was impossible to kick him as he was sitting on my legs, all of his dead weight on me. My head swung back, my skull connecting with the floor. And then it happened again, and again. I felt dizzy, my head swirling.

"Fucking son of a-"

"We share the same mother, little brother," he hissed, as I clawed at his hands trying to lose his grips on my hair. Then he was wrenched off me, allowing me to breathe freely. My whole head was in pain. I slowly got up, feeling someone helping me to. I pushed the person away, swaying slightly but storming towards my room, entering and slamming the door shut behind me, which made the headache worse.

I didn't know what came over me. But ii never liked people trash talking about the things I owned.

X

_Randy's POV_

I don't know how much time had passed. Stephen was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, his elbows placed on his knees. The same way he had been when I had entered the room. And still he hasn't noticed me. I sighed. I didn't know why he fought with Brock, and it wasn't my problem. But Mr. Farrelly being on the scene at that time, I had to let him see that I was working my position. And I had to enter the room. I looked at Stephen again, wondering why Stephen looked so stressed out. Pushing myself away from the door I was leaning against, I limped towards him.

He would probably despise my existence, but I don't care. I sat beside him, keeping a comfortable distance from his body. Still though, I felt the warmness radiating off his body. "Stephen?"

He didn't make a single move. He just sat there, eyes darkened and staring at nothing in particular. Sighing again, I called his name again, this time making sure the tone of my voice soft. I touched his arm, attempting to get his attention. He moved away from me. Something tugged at my chest, but I ignored it, straining my neck to get a better look at his face. "Hey…. You need to ice that bruise…"

"Just leave me alone," he growled deep in his chest, casting a glare towards my direction. My eyes slightly widened in astonishment. Though his eyes wafted off anger, there was sadness coating them, maybe to the extent of grief. Another tug at my heart. Before he turned his head away, I cupped his good cheek, blocking his movement.

"Don't be stubborn," I said, eyeing the ice pack on the night stand, which Evan had brought in earlier.

"Look who's talking," he muttered, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and pushing away my hand. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," I said, dropping my gaze to the floor for a few seconds and rose they back up. Something in his eyes told me that I had stirred something inside him. "But others do. Imagine you going out with that big, blue bruise in your face." Anyway, he seemed to consider it. A few chuckles escaped from my lips. He cocked an eyebrow, giving me a weird look. "Your t-shirt reflects yourself," it was just plain black with the phrase "My Wife Says I Don't Listen (Or Something Like That)" in white words.

Stephen just shook his head. "So you're my _wife_ now?"

"Husband," I corrected. Then he freed my hand, turning forward so he could stare at the wall again. I got up, walking to the night stand and picking the ice pack up. His eyes followed my every move with sharp eyes. I forced back a shiver. I turned to him, pursing my lips and hesitating only a second before placing my hand under his chin and lifting his face up. His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit as he inspected the thing in my hand as if it was a rabid dog. Gently I placed the pack against his blued cheek. Then I tensed, feeling his hands touching my thighs and then trailing down.

A trail of fire followed his hands, igniting a spark inside me. I gulped, trying to move my legs away, but his hands went behind my knees, holding my calves. Suddenly he jerked them forward, making me gasp and drop the ice pack. Losing balance I fell onto him. My legs were bent forward, knees resting at Stephen's sides. I was sitting on his lap. Blushing furiously, I jerked backwards, only to fall back to the floor, as Stephen was sitting on the edge of the bed. His arms locked around me, stopping my action and pulled me against him.

"Stephen," I hissed, my fingers curling a fistful of the material of his shirt. I tried to glare, my angered gaze locking in his…. Jaded emeralds. With flecks of golden hazel highlighting the outline of his raven irises. They were beautiful. And they made me dizzy just by staring at them. The next second I was slammed into the bed, with Stephen hovering over me. His face leaned down, his eyes focused on my lips. Resisting the urge to bit down on my own bottom lip, I averted my face away. I felt his lips connecting with my cheek.

My hands gripped his biceps tightly, my nails digging into his muscles. I realized my breathing was shallow, coming out ragged. "Don't," I gritted out, and his lips left my face. In surprise, I looked at him, to see his face contorted in pain. I quickly retreated my hands, thinking that it was my hands that caused him pain. But it wasn't. He felt to his side, breathing heavily and holding his right ribs. My mind registered none of what happened a moment ago. I snatched the ice pack that I had dropped earlier and moved towards Stephen, whose jaws were twitching. Obviously, he was in pain. Then there was another tug at my heart. I ignored it yet again, taking Stephen's hand that was holding his side and pushing it away. He didn't want to, but I cast a glare at him, which surprisingly made him follow what I wanted.

Glancing once at his face, lifted up the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards just until the reddish purple bruise came to view. I tried not to wince at the sight, my finger pads ghosting over the swollen flesh in a feather light touch. I heard Stephen inhale sharply, but I paid zero attention to him and focused on the bruise. I gently pressed the ice pack against his ribs, applying light pressure. His ribs were probably broken. I made a mental note to call the family doctor, as I was not one and had no idea what to do.

"Hold this for ten minutes. I'll be back," I said, attempting to get out of the bed. His hand shot up, gripping mine tightly, not allowing me to go.

"Stay," his voice was demanding, but his eyes were held a forced back emotion, which ii doubt was fear. My heart jumped. What was going on?

"I need to call your doctor," I stood up, but he still wouldn't let me go.

"I don't need a doctor. I'm fine," he growled, tugging my hand. I sat back down, frowning. This whole family drama was starting to freak me out. "Just don't go out of this room."

"You can't lock me in a bedroom forever, Stephen. One day, I would leave," I averted my gaze, feeling Stephen's hold of my hand become too painful to bear. What was his problem?

"You won't go anywhere, until I release you, Randy. And I doubt, I would ever give permission until I have you only to myself," he spat, his voice dripping with venom, just like his eyes, darkened with possession. My chest wrenched painfully. It only took me those words to yank my hand out of his grasp, and storm out of the room. I heard him call my name, but I walked away with deafened ears.

Funny how in one second he could sweep me off my feet and then step down on my soul.


	8. Chapter 8

**[A/N] **

**I know, I know, I suck at writing in Stephen's POV. Hopefully, the previous chapter will be the last of that. **

**And, thanking** _Averayy4life_**, **_Amy95_**, **_IkindaDigCrazyGuys_**, **_leoxrko_**, **_waldron82_**, **_MelancholicBaby_**, **_firefoxsilver9_**, **_sexyablonde_**, **_RKO-flavored-skittles_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_LoveNHurt_** for reviewing the previous chapter. **

**Does Cena have a crush on Randy?: **_I'm still not sure about it, it's just my Centon feelings kicking in. So, maybe._

**Song of Chapter: **_Heart Attack-Demi Lovato_

**(08)**

Finally.

I could put on shoes. For the past few days my footwear had been limited to only socks or nothing at all, but now that the cut in my leg was healed, I had no problem walking freely. I put on my old beat up Nike high tops, admiring the sight. Yeah, I was still a kid in heart. I stood up, flexing my leg and feeling how fit it was. All was thanks to… Stephen.

Him, I hadn't seen even for a second since two days ago. And I didn't want to. With him I had no business. In my eyes, he was just a selfish prick who only cared about his shit. I couldn't understand his mood swings, and that didn't settle well with me. What was he trying to play at? Was there something else besides craving to sleep with me?

"Good morning," I looked up to see Mrs. Farrelly smiling lightly. Her usually lose hair pulled back into a bun, the red in her hair contrasting with bright blue eyes, which reminded me of Brock's. though, his were lighter than Mrs. Farrelly's. I smiled back, then copying her when she frowned seconds later. "Where's Stephen?"

Fuck.

They didn't know that we had two separate rooms. I pulled over a mask, a look of worry washing up my face. "He's in his own room. I didn't want to hurt his broken ribs…"

"He has broken ribs?" she asked worriedly, her blue eyes turning a shade lighter as her eye brows furrowed.

I was surprised. "He didn't tell you?"

"No," she shook her head. "And you didn't either, though I know that you had a fair reason. Your leg is feeling better now?"

"Yes," I answered honestly, noticing that her worry deepened when she glanced at my leg. "I'm fine now."

"Then we can have breakfast downstairs. I really missed you," she gave me a genuine smile.

"Really?" I asked, utterly astonished. I mean, I haven't even talked that much with her since the first day meeting her. It was odd.

"Your presence is such a pleasant thing," she laughed, her chuckles twinkling through the room. The corners of my lips twitched, for a smile or for a pout I didn't know, but times like this reminded me of my own mother. "Well then, I'm expecting you at the table in half an hour. I must go check up on Stephen. He hasn't come out of his room since…. _That_ happened. I need to give him these letters." She sighed, rubbing her temples in a tired manner.

"If… if you want to, I can give him those," as soon as those words left my lips, I wanted to punch myself. What was I thinking?

"That would be grateful," she exhaled in relief, giving me a wide smile. There was no turning back. giving her a stiff nod, I took the stuffed envelopes from her hand and lea her out of the room, closing the door behind me. "Make him come with you?"

A hint of red tainted my cheeks, as what she said rhymed with another word. Gee, glad to know I owned a dirty mind. Clearing my throat and forcing back the blush, I nodded. "I'll try…" I watched for a moment as she walked away, after giving me a pat on the back. Then my eyes shifted to the door in front of me, which lead through to Stephen's room. Why was I in this situation again? Oh yes, because I couldn't keep my bloody mouth shut.

I raised my hand and touched the door knob. I was about to turn it, when it was suddenly wrenched open from inside. Gasping, I stepped back, the letters slipping through my fingers and falling to the floor. I froze, when I didn't see the one I expected to see. Then my eyes casted lower. "Evelyn?"

"Ran-Ran!" She squealed, bouncing on her feet. A grin spread across my lips at the small ball of energy, who was holding a newly opened box of watercolors, paint still oozing out of the tubes and dripping out of the box and pooling on the carpet. Evan would have to go through hell to clean it. "Where were you?" she pouted, when I crouched down and took the box from her hands, but not before placing the letters on the nearby stand. Paint smeared all over my hands, but I chose to ignore it.

"Just in my room. I had a… boo in my leg and couldn't walk," I caught her hands when she tried to wipe them in her dress and shook my head. "No, baby, not on your dress. What were you doing with these anyway?" I frowned. In Stephen'sroom?

"Painting," she said in a 'duh' voice, giving me a flat look.

"Painting?" I echoed. There was something fishy about the look she was flashing me.

"Yes," she nodded vigorously, putting her paint smeared palms on my shirt, gently pushing me back. "Let's go eat," there was definitely something weird going on.

"You go… I'll come later. I need to wake Stephen up," when I tried to get up, she put her arms around my neck, stopping me from doing so.

"But I want you to eat with me," she pouted so adorably, which managed to get a smile on my face again. Who could say no to that cute face? Slipping my arm under her, I lifted her up, making her sit down on my arm.

"Your mom told me to wake your brother up," I gave her a serious look, but she just tightened her arms around me.

"Steph is still sleeping," she complained, glaring at nothing in particular. Then I heard she mutter 'lazy head' in a low voice, probably at Stephen. Chuckling, I glanced towards the bed when I heard a groan. Stephen must be waking up… then I froze.

What the fuck?!

I looked at the watercolor box in my hand, and Evvy in my arm, and then at Stephen who was staring at his paint smeared hands. Apparently, Evelyn had been sleep walking and imagined Stephen's face as a canvas.

I just got screwed. Evelyn followed my gaze and looked at Stephen, who was glaring at the both of us. Then she squealed, loudly. My blood ran cold, as Stephen started to get out of the bed. I needed to get out of there. sparing only a glance at Stephen, I swiftly turned away, hurrying down the stairs. Evelyn was now giggling as her master plan succeeded. And I was left to fuck myself. I almost collided with Evan on the way, and did, against John. He took a hold of my arm, his death grip making my escape delay.

"What the hell is going on?!" he demanded, his eyes frantically running up and down on a horrified me and a hysterically laughing Evvy.

"Let me go! He's coming!" and right then I heard Stephen shout my name. Shoving Evelyn and the box of watercolors into John's hand, spinning around to face Evan who was approaching us with an incredulous look in his face. "Hide her!" I only wasted a moment before taking a sprint to wherever my legs took me. and faintly, I noticed that I was running up the staircase that lead to the right side of the house. All the rooms on that side- according to Evan- were for the guests who would arrive for various occasions. My footsteps echoed through the empty, hollow hallways, and my fussy mind did not take in the eerie silence.

Even though it was morning, the corridors were lit up with decorative bulbs, making the halls dim-lit. as the adrenalin rush inside me faded, the sound of my heart beating booming in my ears. My lungs were burning for air, but I paid only half attention to breathe while I strained my ears to hear if anyone was coming this way. Why was I making such a fuss out of this again? One, obviously, I will be the one who he'd blame. Secondly, I did not want to be alone with him, because he is not one to be trusted.

my heart jumped to my throat as I heard my name being called again, and again, the second time a bit more louder than the first. I backed away, wildly searching for a place to hide. These rooms were probably locked, but I had to try my luck. Then again, luck was for losers.

All the knobs I twisted and turned were no use, because none of the rooms were unlocked. I cursed myself inwardly, as I heard heavy footfalls. There was no time, and I would have to face Stephen. A few steps back I took, and my back hit a door with a dull thud. Here he comes-

I was on the floor. I was on the fucking floor, with Brock hovering over me. as soon as I parted my lips to say him to get off me, he clasped one of his big, meaty hands over my mouth, sealing my lips. My breath hitched, as I stared at him wide eyes. he wasn't looking at me, but his eyes were focused on the closed door. I was in his bedroom. Wriggling underneath him, I tried to bite his palm.

"Shh," he turned to me, and whispered. His cold, icy eyes bore into mine, making me freeze over. There was no denying that I was afraid to be around this man. Not after what he said to me a day ago. I was more than grateful that he was not pressing against me, because if he did, I would have passed out by the second. And the bulge that was visible to me was not helping the situation either. Even to me I sounded like such a pansy. I heard someone call my name, and for a second I felt like letting myself caught to Stephen was way better than this.

For a few minutes later the person outside the room left, the sound of him walking away fading by the passing second. However, I could not sigh in relief. Then Brock removed his hand from my mouth, and I could breathe freely, but I found myself being unable to do that. It was as if Brock had sucked all the air around and between us.

"I see that someone has been curious to explore the house," his deep humorless chuckles reached my ears. His hands moved to my hips, pinning them to the floor. My breathing increased to the point where I was literally panting.

"I-I was j-just-"

"you should not wander alone…" his face leaned down. "It's not safe…"

"G-get off," I whispered, pushing him away from me, to which he didn't even bulge. "Please…"

"You plead so beautifully," he chuckled again, his eyes darkening as they casted towards somewhere lower, down past my face. Then they shifted to mine again, one hand leaving one of my sides. The back of his knuckles brushed across my cheek. "So young…"

"You're insane," I shook my head, forcing back a shiver. "You're fucking crazy."

His hand shot up and wrapped around my throat, squeezing hard. I inhaled sharply, clawing at his hand. "I'm not _crazy_," he growled, squeezing down again. I choked, black spots starting to appear in my vision as I writhed violently under him. He was blocking my windpipe, and I gasped for air, my head swimming with the force he was pressing upon me. "I'm not crazy," he whispered the last part, before letting go of me. I breathed hard and fast, wriggling out under him and backing away, until my back hit the edge of his bed. I touched my throat, which was still shooting jolts of pain shooting up my jaws. Wiping away the tears that had flowed out of my eyes, I let my eyes wander to Brock, who was kneeling on the ground a few feet away from me, staring at his hands.

Between the anger and fear I felt towards him, there was something in the position he was in. he looked… sympathetic. I absent mindedly shook my head. Stumbling to my feet, I scurried towards the door, keeping as much as distance away from him. There was a tug at my chest as I closed the door behind me, it was as if I was locking him in a prison. The last glimpse I caught of him awakened a wrenching feeling in my heart, but I refused to let it take over my mind. I had no business with him.

Lost in my thoughts I made my way downstairs, crossed the living room, and made it to the staircase which led to my room. Loud giggles made me look at the direction they came from, and I found myself staring at Stephen who was tickling Evelyn in the kitchen. And then I realized what I was supposed to be doing, and I hurried to my room. For a long time I washed my hands in the bathroom, not because I wanted o but because Brock was invading my mind. The way he said he was not crazy….

It was as if he was convincing _himself_… I turned off the tap, my hand going to my throat as I stared at the finger marks on my skin. They will definitely receive unwanted attention. "Gotcha!" Hands snaked around my waist. I gasped, spinning to face Stephen who had a devilish grin spread across his face. "Prankster number one, problem solved. Now it's time for prankster number two, who is gotta be the mastermind behind the plan."

I sighed, dropping my gaze to the floor and slightly bowing my head. I placed my hands on his, which were gripping my hips. "It was all, Evelyn, Stephen. I was at the wrong place, in the wrong time."

"Really, now?" he asked, and I could imagine him cocking an eye brow at me. "Even if you didn't take part in it, you helped her escape… admit it, or you will face the consequences." I looked at him again, frowning. Consequences? "You're wondering what the consequences are, aren't you?" struggling to force back the flush on my cheeks I glared at him.

"Hands off," I grumbled, slapping his hands on my waist. How can he act like nothing happened the last time we were together? He was such a-

I gasped, feeling his hands slip under my t-shirt. "I can't let you go without giving a little punishment," he cooed, and then wriggled his fingers at my sides. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying not to laugh. I was ticklish, God dammit! I knew my face was red by holding back. And then he did something with his fingers, and I bursted into a fit of chuckles. "Say you're sorry, and I'll let you go."

"I d-didn't… oh God… do anyth-anything," I hit his chest, but he pressed against me hard, my lower back pressing hard against the rim of the sink. "STEP-STEPHEN…. PLEASE…. I CA-CAN'T.. AHAHAHAHA, NO… OH MY GOD… HAHAHA," I was hysterical, writhing like a fish that had accidentally jumped out of the water. I was feeling dizzy, and I was on the verge to give up when his fingers stopped tickling. Panting, I let my head fall to his shoulder. That was one hell of a torture. His hands replaced themselves on my hips again, and he gently jerked his body forward, so I had to pull back. my face was still burning and I refused to look at him. It was embarrassing. However, I did not apologize. Why would I, when I had done nothing wrong?

His lips landed on mine, stealing a kiss. Instinctively my arms went around his neck, but I didn't pull him closer, neither did I pull back. his lips molded into mine, nipping on my bottom lip and sucking for a few seconds occasionally. I just stood there, my lips slightly parted, waiting until his assault is over. It took him a few more moments to pull away, but then his lips planted kisses all over my neck. For the briefest moment, I felt like he mouthed 'missed you' against my skin. my heart skipped a beat. Then he froze, his body tensing up and stiffening.

Shit.

In lightning speed he pulled back, his hands grabbing my arms.

"You let him touch you?!" he growled, and again, I found my heart beat speeding up.

"N-no… I… I accidentally crossed his path," I stuttered, dropping my gaze. "And I said something I shouldn't have…" I whispered, bowing my head again. His grips on me tightened, as if asking what I had said. "I… I told him he was… crazy…"

"Fuck," he cursed, more like to himself than to me. "Are… are you hurt?"

I simply shook my head, unable to look at him.

"Never say that to him again," Stephen replied, freeing me. I expected a blow from him.

"But… it isn't that serio-"

"Of course it was fucking serious," he snapped, and I flinched. "To him." My eyes questioned him, and I knew he understood it but he turned his back to me, ignoring. "Just… forget it." then he walked out of the bathroom, gesturing me to follow him. Obeying him, my legs started to walk behind him. He stopped at my closet, opening the door and searching for something. "Strip."

Despite what happened a few seconds ago, I blushed furiously. "W-what?"

"I said, strip. You can't come to breakfast in that shirt," and it made me look at my t-shirt, which had paint prints of Evelyn's hands. I smiled slightly, but then looked at Stephen. I only had to take off my shirt, right?

I heard him mutter how shitty my wardrobe was. Three quarters of it were filled with designer clothes and it still wasn't good enough for him. I shook my head in disbelief and stripped off the shirt, crossing my arms over his chest until he handed me a new one. humming in satisfaction, he turned to me. I didn't miss the way his eyes darkened, as he tossed the shirt to my hands. "We're going shopping later," he stated, his eyes moving to a certain spot. I looked down, noticing that he was staring at the silver chain around my neck. "What's this?" he came closer and touched the Aries pendant.

"Something that my mom gave me," I said in a low voice, moving away from his touch and turning my back to him until I slipped on the t-shirt. He made no comment, and offered his hand at me. hesitating only a second, I took it, and allowed him to lead me downstairs. I was partly disappointed that I would have to spend the day with him, but at least it was better than staying inside the house all day and doing nothing.

_**Short and boring, I know, but I promise a longer chapter next time. Hope you enjoyed. A certain someone wanted more Shandy moments, so I hope I did something good with this… Reviews will be appreciated. **_


	9. Chapter 9

**[A/N]**

**Thank you **_CoureyCollins-Glass_**, **_Lyra_**, **_IkindaDigCrazyGuys_**, **_Averayy4life_**, **_MelancholicBaby_**, **_waldron82_**, **_EnvisionVerse_**, **_RKO-flavored-skittles_**, **_BBreakdown_**, **_BrokenBloodyAngel _**(welcome to the family, babe) , **_LoveU2Much_**,**_ shirozero_** for reviews. The positivity helps me keep going. **

**Chapter Dedication: **_MelancholicBaby (This is not for you, but for for your intelligent brain.)_

**Song of the Chapter: **_Broken Bones-Rev Theory _

**(09)**

"Let go," I hissed, when I saw Wade coming up the front marble stairs. I did not want to put up a show with Stephen holding my hand in front of that… weirdo? "Stephen…"

"Shut up," he muttered, exiting the front doors and yanking my hand. I gave a desperate look to Evan, who was holding out the door for us. His response was a 'calm down' expression, to which I blatantly glowered. I squinted my eyes when the sun directly hit me in the face, slightly burning my eyes. Not that I didn't like it, but the next second, I found myself tripping over. And I ended up with my hands around Stephen, my face pressing against his back and one of my legs on the top step while the other was on its toes in the step below.

I heard Wade guffawing. Glaring, and struggling to keep the embarrassment off my face, I straightened up, deciding to ignore both the man who was laughing at me. I crossed my arms, when Stephen reached out to grab me. "No." I protested.

"Why is it that we keep meeting whenever you're tripping over the stairs, eh?" Wade mused, folding his arms behind his back and leaning forward. I huffed and looked away, only to look back because my eyes caught a glimpse of a tattoo in his forearm. I curiously tried to get a better look at it, but then he unfolded his arms, the short sleeve of his dark brown t-shirt sliding down to fully cover his bicep. I held back a groan. I always had a thing for tattoos.

But that didn't mean I liked every tattooed man in the world.

"Come on. We're going to the mall," Stephen said, his fingers lightly grazing my side as he stepped closer to me. I wriggled away from him, causing Wade to raise an eye brow. "He's ticklish."

Wade shook his head. Then froze. "Wait… I thought we were going to have a guys' day out?"

"Thank God!" I threw my hands in the air, delightfully grinning. "Enjoy your day, gentlemen," I walked past between them, only to be grabbed by Stephen's anaconda grip. I grunted, wriggling again. Then a slap to my ass… and I was frozen, my eyes wide.

"Not so fast, Randal," Stephen murmured, tightening his grip. "I was going to call you when we are at the mall but now that you're here, you can ride with us. After I get some shopping done for him, we can go to a game or something," Stephen explained, gently nudging me to go forward. And I did, keeping my ears strained to hear what they were talking about. My eyes were narrowed to slits, as I pondered over the fact that Stephen had a nerve to slap my butt.

"Since when did you ever shop?" I heard Wade's amused voice, and I could imagine his eye brows shooting up.

"Since I married this bitch," that was all it took for me to lunge at him. I didn't know when we had reached the bottom of the steps but what I realized was, that I was rolling on the ground, my fists hitting Stephen's chest but somehow some of the blows getting blocked by his hands. I was screaming, swatting away Stephen's arm and clawing at his chest. Then he bucked his hips, making my balance on his hips lose and then I was pinned to the ground, on neatly trimmed lawn. His hands held my shoulders down, while his groin pressed against my abdomen hard. It took me everything to force back the gasp that was about to escape my lips. His obvious hard on was poking my body,

His face leaned forward, chest heaving with heavy breathing. It almost looked like he was growling. I parted my lips, seeing how his eyes darken as they dropped to my mouth. I felt his hold on me loosen, and I took his distraction as my advantage and suddenly screamed again, once in a blue hell managing to roll over and sit on his thighs again. I was pulled away instantly, Wade's arms going around me and lifting me off of Stephen. "Enough, kitten," I hissed dangerously as he said that, trying to untangle myself away from Wade's arms. I was shoved into the car, which was possibly a limo because I was lying on my back in the seat.

Wade had already entered and was sitting on the opposite seat, as Stephen came in next, slamming the door shut and hovering over me. I propped myself up on my elbows, just as his face leaned closer, I moved to pull back. his hand went behind my head, gripping a handful of my hair and yanking my hand back. "You are too much to bear… stop struggling, or else."

"You just need an excuse to touch me," I hissed in his face, stating the obvious. Wade was laughing, at me or at Stephen I didn't know, but I felt my face heating up.

"So, are you two gonna have sex now?"

Stephen glared at me intensely, before lifting himself up and moving away to sit next to Wade and punched his shoulder hard. Wade winced, punching Stephen back. I sat straight, tugging down my shirt that had rose up a bit, revealing my abdomen. I slid to the furthest away from them, leaning against the other side's door, my head resting against the glass shutter. My fingers still itched to claw Stephen's skin off, but I balled my hands into fists, closing my eyes and trying to get my control back up. I could feel Stephen's eyes bore into me, but I paid him no attention.

"We've got to pick up Ambrose," I heard Wade say.

"Yeah," muttered Stephen then said something to the driver. I sighed, slightly opening my eyes to gaze out at the passing buildings sneaked a glance at Stephen, who was peering into something in his phone screen. Luckily, he had remembered to wear a hoodie. The bruise in his cheek has almost healed, but still a bit swollen and a light purple in color. It didn't matter, because the hoodie would be covering it up. As for me though… I shivered, my hand absently going to my throat. The finger marks in my skin burned when my touch ghosted over them. There was no way hiding them. Hopefully, no one would notice me. I shivered again, remembering how Brock had stared at me, especially at my abused throat.

Of course Stephen noticed it, but he didn't get a chance to poke me about it, because I had managed to slip away from the room without all of their notice, excluding Brock. The car came to a stop, and I looked out. Before I could recognize where we were, the door opened and someone slipped in. he sat next to me, since Stephen and Wade owned the whole opposite seat. He had a light scruff on his face, his brown hair slicked back with gel. He then looked at me, giving me a nod. No smile. I already liked him.

I nodded back, and then turned my eyes away from him back to gaze out of the shutter.

"I didn't know you'd bring him," he didn't sound like he was mad. Of it all, he sounded merry.

"Wasn't planned," Stephen said, shaking his head. I turned to glare at him.

"You say it like I forced you to bring myself with you."

"In a way you did," he said, his voice coating anger. "Your wardrobe did."

"Oh, shut up," I waved him away, gritting my teeth. He always blamed on me for everything. I snapped my head to my side, looking at the man who was sitting beside me. in his hand was an iPod, 'Dean A.' in gold lettering carved behind the case. So this was Dean Ambrose. But what caught my attention was the song he had pressed to play. His eyes were closed and his head was resting back, as Pantera blasted through his ear phones. When was the last time I had listened to some music? Yeah, the day before my graduation. I swallowed hard, to force the memories back into my head.

Uninetntionally, I touched his hand, bringing his attention to me. He looked at me, then at his iPod, then at me again. "Pantera?"

I nodded, still staring at the screen.

"You want?" he asked, giving one of the ear plugs to me. I glanced at it, and then raised my eyes to meet his grey orbs.

"Do you mind?"

A smile hinted in his lips, as he pushed the plug into my palm. "Not at all, kiddo." Normally, I would've been beyond furious to hear someone calling me that but right now, I didn't care. I wanted nothing more than to engulf myself in music. Then I jumped, hearing Dean snap.

"Did you do that?" he practically shouted, pointing at my neck. I grimaced, looking at Stephen. His eyes were narrowed at me, jaws twitching. "Did you do that?" he asked again. He looked like he was angry. But why? I only got to know him today, but he sound like he has known me for years. I swallowed hard.

"Yes," Stephen said, making my neck snap at the speed I used to turn to him. What?

"Do you real-"

"I realize what I did, Ambrose," Stephen's green eyes briefly glanced at Dean. "Now shut up about it."

"Don't tell me to shut-"I placed my hand on Dean's knee, which caused him to stop shouting and blink. When he looked at me I shook my head, silently asking him to end the question. After a moment of hesitation, he let go. I could understand the reason Stephen did not reveal the truth, but what I couldn't understand was _why_ he did it. I caught a glimpse of Stephen again, and dropped my gaze to my feet before he saw me looking at him. My palm was nudged, and I looked to see Dean's hand pressing the plug to the flesh, a gesture to put it in my ear. I did so, immediately drowning in the sound of metal.

Resuming gazing out of the shutter, I let my body relax. Wade and Stephen were murmuring something from the other side, and from the hisses and looks I could tell that they were talking about me, but not that I cared. Snickering, I folded my arms on my lap, closing my eyes. I may have fallen asleep on the way, because the next I was being awakened by someone, their hand gently shaking me awake. I blinked, stifling out a yawn and looking at Dean beside me. he shoved his iPod in his pocket, gesturing me towards the door. I looked, seeing Wade's back disappearing through the door. Just as Dean turned to exit the limo, I put my hand on his bicep.

"It wasn't Stephen," muttering those words out, I slipped passed him, barely noticing that he was frozen. And I was pulled to the side the soon I stepped out, a man who was in his business suit rushing past me like a hurricane. I blinked.

"Watch your step," Stephen hissed in my ear. I yanked my arm away from his grasp, scowling.

"It's not like I stepped on that guy. He's the one who was about to run over me."

Then Dean came out, shutting the limo door behind him. I watched as the limo drove away, leaving us in the middle of nowhere.

"Why are we standing in the middle of the road?" I asked. More like… demanded.

"First of all, we are not standing in the middle of the road, muffin. Secondly, the mall is right behind you," Wade smirked, pointing his finger at something behind me. narrowing my eyes, I looked back, seeing a multiple storied building. Giving Wade a flat look, I jabbed my finger on his chest.

"Stop calling me names," spinning on my heel, I stormed inside the shopping complex, with others behind me.

"You guys want to head somewhere else? I will meet you up after buying him some things," Stephen said, his words slightly jumping like he was trying to catch up with my walking pace. Long legs were a benefit at some moments. Not that Stephen was a short guy, no. He was the same height as me. "Let's go," Stephen said, managing to keep up his speed with me. I glanced back, to see the other two heading a different way, and from the looks of it, they were arguing. I moved away just in time before Stephen caught my hand. hugging myself, I slightly glared at him.

"Can you not?!" He just had to show off his possessiveness.

Stephen gritted his teeth, and the turned his face away from me. A light pink spread on his cheeks, and held myself back for I was on the verge of bursting out laughing. Did Stephen Farrelly actually blush? I stopped, going to stand in front him. I knew I looked like a fool, grinning like a madman, but how could I not?

"Do that again?" I asked, looking into his face. He glared, the pink darkening to a red. Awh. I cupped his face in my hands, my grin widening to the point that my cheeks started hurting. Not that I cared. "You're so pretty."

Then I froze the grin on my face faltering. Did I seriously say that? What the hell was happening? He pried my hands off his face, not saying a word. He held one of my hands, fingers loosely wrapping around mine. I looked at our hands, my heart momentarily skipping a beat. Shaking the dizziness off my head, I tagged along behind Stephen.

XXX

Someone whistled, making me spin around. A group of men was looking me up and down. I backed a few steps.

"You alone, gorgeous?" one asked, smirking.

Another snickered. "Having trouble choosing right clothes? I could lend you a hand… Or something else," he swayed his hips forward, in an inappropriate way. Fuming, I grabbed the item closest to my hand, a shoe.

"Fuck off," I hissed, glowering.

"Oooh. Feisty. I love that," the one who talked first said, taking a step toward me. "Makes our-"

"He's mine," Stephen growled from behind me, suddenly appearing out of thin air. His arm snaked around my waist, his palm resting on my abdomen giving me heated chills. For once, I did not fight back.

"Chill, dude," one said, raising their palms up in defense and backing away. "We were just teasing him. No actual harm intended."

"Nice ass you've got there, baby," someone shouted, as the group left the area we were in. the shoe in my hand flew through the air. Luckily for them, it did not hit any one of them, and I couldn't chase them either, because I had to hold Stephen back from running after them. The murderous look on his face was enough for me to stop him from going, because I sensed that if I did, he would have done something foolish that would ruin his image. And it would affect Mr. Farrelly's business. He was growling like an animal though, the deep rumbling making his chest vibrate. Then he buried his face against my neck, his teeth lightly biting my skin there. I ran my hands up and down his back.

Whether I was trying to soothe him or I just felt like touching him I didn't know, but my palm glided smoothly on his broad back. He chuckled. "What?" I raised an eye brow, pulling away from him.

"You _are_ a kitten," he gave an amused smile, holding me in an arm's length. His green eyes ran all over me. I rolled my eyes, remembering that it was what Wade referred me to a few hours ago at Stephen's mansion. Funny how I was trying to kill him at that time but getting along just fine right now. "It suits you," he said, gesturing to the shirt I was wearing. I scrunched up my face in disgust.

"But it's pink!" this was the only shirt that I put up with an argue. All my choices were revolved around the colors blue, grey, dark green, when Stephen on the other hand decided that bright colors like red, neon yellow, sky blue fit me. But the only color I held a grudge against was pink.

"No it's not," he frowned, moving to stand behind me and adjusted my body so I was facing a mirror. "It's a reddish purple. It looks good."

But I wasn't looking at the t-shirt. My eyes were zeroed on his face, which was frowning, eye brows knitted together, his lips pursed. Then his eyes fixed upon my reflection. "Randy?"

"Hmm?"

"Randy?" I was spun around, to face him. "Is there something wrong? I called you several times."

"Oh…" was all I could manage out. For some reason, my mind was foggy. I've been feeling a lot of that emotion lately. Like I'm… lost. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear my mind. I felt him touch my chin, tilting my head up. his thumb ran over my bottom lip. "Let's just… leave," I pulled away, my chest feeling heavy. It was as if a ton of bricks was weighing my heart down. I couldn't understand the feeling at all. Taking off the shirt I was wearing, I threw it in the basket that Stephen had gotten to put the chosen clothes along with others. Throwing on my own t-shirt, I motioned him to follow me to the cashier.

The girl behind the counter gave a sultry smile at Stephen. It was obvious that she knew her by the way she talked with him. I just kept all to myself, standing behind him. a wrenching feeling took over me, when I heard the way Stephen chatted with the brunette. Who could blame him though? He was a ladies' heartthrob. I didn't miss the way the girl purposefully brushed her fingers against the back of Stephen's hand, and the way he shrugged it off like it was nothing, not even acknowledging I was there.

Not that I cared…

I tried so hard to carve those four words into my brain. A failed attempt.

"Come on," he finally said, offering his hand to me. Pursing my lips, I brushed past him, out of the shop. "Randy!" I ignored the bump my heart took on its way beating down the road named 'life'. As sappy as that sounded, it was the truth. The way he said my name always made me freeze, in a good way, and the tone he uses just enhances whatever it is that it does to me. I know I should be thinking that he's just trying to get in my pants and that is all, but I just… can't.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my short brown hair. This shit was complicated.

"Rand-"

"Don't," I held up a hand at him. "Just don't."

XXX

"Randy," Dean took the seat beside me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. "Who was it?" he was referring to the fading finger marks in my neck. I tried to smile, but even to me it felt fake.

"It's nothing you've got to be worried about, Dean," I assured, my eyes focused on Stephen and the young man who he was talking to. I shook my head at myself. Why did I care about who he flirted with?

"But i…" he trailed off. I diverted my eyes to him, cocking an eye brow. His gaze was shifting between me and Stephen, the smirk on his lips widening by the passing second. "Jealous, are we?"

I scowled. "No."

"In denial, are we?" he then asked that. I glared. "Is that look supposed to intimidate me, Randy? Because sorry to bust your bubbles, I've dealt with worse people than you. For example, Stephen." Dean looked at Stephen, the slightest of a sneer hinting in his face before focusing back on me. "You know, there's a reason why his Dad wanted you to marry him."

"I know. I just…" I sighed tiredly, glancing at Wade who was tying up his bowling shoes a little too far away from us. Again, I caught a hint of what looked like a red rose peeking out f his t-shirt sleeve. "I don't know how to do it."

Dean chuckled knowingly.

"What?"

"You really don't see it, do you?" he mused.

"See what?" my eye brows furrowed.

"Maybe it's better that I leave it to yourself to find out," he gave a nasty grin, taking his own bowling shoes and putting them, on. I looked at my already bowling shoes clad feet. This was ridiculous. I didn't even know how to play the game. I wasn't ashamed to admit that. And I did, in front of our little group and to my utter surprise, no one laughed. Well, Wade was on the verge of, but he kept his mouth shut. Maybe he was scared that I would lash out on him like I did in the morning. Good for him. I haven't spoken to Stephen since we had left the mall. Dean had questioned, with his eyes, but I just shook my head at him like always.

"I'll teach ya!" Wade volunteered. A grin broke out in my face at his enthusiasm. I stood up from the bench and followed him to the court. I got to keep my eyes on Wade only for a few seconds. Just as he rolled the ball straight down the lane, my head snapped to the side, taking in the sight of Stephen laughing loudly with the kid. I cursed myself. Why did I have to ruin my fun time because of him. gritting my teeth in annoyance, I asked Wade to show me how to throw the ball one more time. The anger was not directed at him, though.

I forced myself to stay focused on Wade, on how his body moved when he bent and stretched his arm out, the ball rolling off his hand down the lane. It knocked the ten-pins over the first chance it got. I gave an impressed look. "It's your turn," Wade handed me a ball. Gosh, this thing was heavy. "Count it, while I go drag Farrelly over here," I heard Wade telling to Dean while stomping off. Taking a deep breath, I let the ball slide off my hand. it rolled down the wooden lane, slowing by the end. But it hit five pins.

"Not bad for a beginner," I shrugged at Dean, who was scoring down on a score card. "We are teaming up against those two," he pointed towards Wade and Stephen who were making their way towards us, to whom I refused to pay attention. I watched as Dean went at his turn, scoring a perfect ten-pin. And then it was Stephen's turn, and I distracted myself with the colorful balls that lined up in the holder. And soon it was my turn again. I groaned inwardly, reminding myself that it was time for the embarrassment. Carelessly I took a ball in my hand, weighing it up before slightly bending forward to let it roll.

"You're holding it the wrong way," Stephen touched my hand and adjusted it the way it should be, in a 'W' shaped form. Then he went behind me, pressing against my back and one arm locking around my waist. My breath hitched, and my eye lids closed down. "Open your eyes," he had the ability to force them open with just of his words. All I could concentrate was how his hand was rubbing circles on my abs, a warm tingling sensation shooting up my skin. I felt the ball being thrown and a few seconds later, his lips touched my cheek in a feathery pressure. "You did great." I forced myself not to scream and strangle my own neck till I died.

What _the fuck_ was he doing to me?

XXX

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He growled, slamming me against the wall and trapping me between his arms. I pained whimper dragged out of my mouth, but I pursed my lips before it turned into a whine and hardened my eyes at him.

"What is wrong with me?! _What is wrong with me?!"_ my voice rose, and my palms pushed back at his chest. "Asks the one who has been hitting on every walking thing in sight!"

"You're jea-"

"I'm not fucking jealous!" I screamed. I swear, the whole house heard what I just shouted. My eyes darted back and forth, my fists clenched at my sides to prevent them from raining blows on Stephen.

"Just fucking admit it, Randal," he snickered. "And I wondered that I had done something worse than that under my notice."

"We are married, Stephen! We swore not to look at another man or a woman the way _you_ not just looked, but also flirted," I threw my hands in the air, fuming.

"Get it through your head, Randy, they were just words!" he shouted back, his eyes darkening and chest heaving. I sensed he was reaching a dangerous point but at the moment I was far from caring of what he might do. My blood boiled at what he said. "Just words that were written in a stupid book. No one lives their lives through words. They mean nothing."

I forced myself to calm down. I just couldn't, not with him. "You are right, Stephen. They are just words. Ink written on paper, meaningless. Our marriage," I showed him the ring in my finger, "this bound was meant to put a meaning to those words. But I see it now. Not even this marriage, not even the Devil's son Lucifer can change you."

"You're making such a fuss out of a stupid thing," though he said that, I could see that I had somehow gotten past through him. I blinked to dry the tears that swelled up in my eyes.

"Because of you," I jabbed my finger at his chest. "I lost the life I wanted to live." Then I turned my back to him, storming away. Furiously I rubbed my eyes to wipe away the tears. i was shoved, just as I opened the door to my room. Gasping, I spun around only to have Stephen's lips crashing down on mine. I accidentally bit my tongue, a gasp making me part my lips to the greatest of his advantage. His tongue slipped inside me, exploring my whole mouth, running over my teeth and gum, wriggling against my own tongue. The kiss was hard, bruising, but at the same time, passionate.

The back of my knees hit the edge of the bed, my legs buckling and my body falling onto the bed, with Stephen on top of me. My lungs begged for air, but it wasn't Stephen who allowed me to breathe. He caught my bottom lip between his teeth, roughly biting down, making me cry out in pain. Then he sucked it, his warm, soft tongue soothing the bruised lip until the pain slowly started to subside. His hands gripped my hips, and suddenly my body was shifted up the bed. my arms went around his neck, one hand running through his velvety hair, tugging softly. He growled, kissing harder. Then he let go of my lips, but his resumed their own work, making a journey up my jaw, behind my ear to which I breathlessly gasped.

I wanted him to latch his lips there, but as if he was teasing me, he left the spot to suffer in condolence. I whined. The fuck this man was doing to me, I had to question again. Instead of shoving him away, I found myself pulling him as close to my body as I can, my fingers curling in his hair and fisting a handful of the material of his shirt, my own hips bucking up to meet his, my pants along with his dominant growls mixing up as he nipped at the base of my throat, marking the skin. a strange craving invaded my body, to feel him against me. my shirt was ripped and tossed away, with Stephen adjusting his position on top of me as he straddled my hips. Then his groin pressed against mine. That's when I realized that how hard I craved him. I almost saw stars as his hips started to thrust against mine, his hands sliding down from my waist and going under my body to grab my ass. Squeezing my cheeks, he lifted my hips and held them a few inches up in the air, so he could easily rub against me. my nails clawed at his shirt, but his lips that planted kisses and licks down my chest distracted me. jolts of heat constantly electrified my body, running up and down my spine.

I cried out again when Stephen's lips closed around my nipple, biting down. Then his tongue ran over the reddened flesh, pressuring a kiss down on it in the end. His hands left my ass and let it fall on the mattress again, as he went to work on my other nipple, his finger nails, grazing down my abs. I mewled, arching up against him and feeling his hard on crashing against mine. Each roll of his hips drew me closer towards the edge. His hands stopped at my jeans, his fingers fiddling with the belt around my waist. That's when my eyes opened, and all came crashing down to me.

What was I doing?

"S-Stephen…. G-get off," I tried to push him away, now horror crawling into me. what had I been thinking? He didn't, growling more and running his tongue over my abdomen. "Stephen please!" I screamed. As if he had been awakened from a nightmare, he got off me, nearly falling to the floor.

"Get out!" I shouted, pointing towards the door and sliding off the other side of the bed.

"You were fine just moments ago!" he shouted back, anger starting to course through him. I let two or three trails of tears flow down my eyes, just to make him see what he had done to me. I doubt he even cared though, but I couldn't control the hurt that poured out of my eyes.

I didn't want myself to get attached, but Stephen was not allowing me to. "Just get out," I whispered weakly, storming to the bathroom and slamming the door shut without sparing a glance at him. I leaned against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I put my head in my hands, drawing my knees to my chest.

I have to get out. As soon as I can.


	10. Chapter 10

**[A/N] Special note**: _I haven't given up any of my stories. I may have not update some in a long time and even in this story I may take so long to upload a chapter. But don't worry. I'm not giving up any of the stories that are currently on-going. I have a few one-shots to upload as well, but I beg you, please bare with me until summer vacation comes. And it means by the end of this month I'll be back to normal. It's just so hard to cope with school life and personal time both together._

**Many thanks to **_Waldron82_**, **_Divaprincess95_**, **_MelancholicBaby_**, **_Love2Much_**, **_Bbreakdown_**, **_eguineverah_**, **_cary99_**, and all the anonymous guests for reviewing.**

**EnvisionVerse: **_Don't I know that? Randy is just too stubborn…_

**Averayy4life: **_Thank you so much for your support._

**RKO-flavored-skittles: **_You team up with the weirdest pairings ever!_

**Stephen Smile: **_LOL, I have watched every one of Shandy videos on the net, from 2010. I never get tired of seeing them together in-ring. Outside the ring videos and pictures are a bonus._

**Will Randy and Stephen ever have a real marriage? :**_Chillax, darlings. There's a reason I paired the story up as Shandy. _

**Why isn't Randy just giving up? : **_I know right? It's just Randy won't listen to me! Stubborn bitch *Stephen's voice*_

**Dedication: **_Bluestar711_** (Glad you find this entertaining, LOL!)**

**(10)**

The whole house was engulfed in silence. Even though it was actually half past eight in the morning, the house looked like it was still midnight. Taking wary steps down the stairs, I frowned when some noises were heard from the kitchen. Blinking tiredly, I peeked into the kitchen, only to exhale deeply.

"Good morning, John. Morning, Evvy," I gave the brightest smile I could manage.

"You look like shi- uh, sheep," was John's reply, catching himself up just before the curse slipped out of his mouth. He eyed Evelyn cautiously, who was spooning her cereal, giggling to herself. Then she looked up, eye brows furrowing and face scrunching up in a cute way.

"He doesn't look like a sheep!" she insisted, glaring at John before giving me a blinding smile. "He's pwetty!"

A set of low chuckles was heard, and it took me a moment to realize that it was me. then I sighed, wandering into the kitchen, my shoulders slumped forward. Dropping my butt on the opposite seat to Evvy, I rested my chin on my balled up fists that were placed on the table. Eyes roaming on the dress she was wearing, I cocked an eye brow at Evelyn. "You're going somewhere?"

"Birthday pwarty," she squealed, flailing her arms in the air. a smaile broke out on my face, small, but visible. "Danny is the same age as me now!"

"What, really?" I mused, mocking her. "He's eighty-eight years old now?"

She giggled loudly, slapping my arm. "No, silly. First, he's a she. And, she's nine. Not eighty-eight."

I shook my head slightly, and then paused when I felt warm, light pressure on my forehead. I looked up, seeing the back of John's hand, glued to my forehead. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Are you sure you're not sick or something?"

"No," I grumbled, swatting his hand away and turning my face to the side.

"Then… are you not feeling well?" doesn't that mean the same thing? I looked over at him to see him gesturing at the base of his left jaw, where it met his ear. Frowning in confusion, I narrowed my eyes. Then he pointed at me. Slowly, my hand travelled up my neck, touching the spot where he had been pointing to before. A slight burn made my eyes widen. And something awfully felt like… teeth marks….

I screwed my eyes shut. Last night… it all came crashing down on my head like a sharpened sword that had been hanging over me. true, we may not have done anything… serious, but those touches… breathy noises… moans and numbing feelings… they all came crashing down. Maybe I was making such a fuss out of this, like Stephen said. But what he wouldn't know is, how much a first time is worth to a vir-

"Randy?" my eyes snapped open. "Are you okay?"

Looking into John's piercing eyes, I could only nod. I let my hand fall to the table, my head hanging as I bowed my face down. A ragged breath left me, before I composed myself and looked at John again, directly in his eyes."I can't stay here, John… I have to get out. I need to find myself a job," I breathed out.

John's blue orbs stared at me in concern before his expression morphed into something like sadness. "Tell me… do you honestly think he would let you do a job, when he doesn't even want you out of your room?"

Truth rang in his words. He was saying the exact truth that I have been trying to deny the whole time I was thinking of paying back the debt. This wasn't the first time I had thought that Mr. Farrelly purposefully dragged me into this hell hole, and he really did. I tried so hard to wipe the tainted thoughts out of my head. "Where are others?"

"Well, Evan and Rosa are having two days off a month, so they'll be gone for today and tomorrow. Mr. and Mrs. Farrelly is out, gone to a charity ceremony. They'll probably be out for the day."

I was still staring at John.

"He…." He hesitated. "He's getting ready to go to a business party."

I nodded again. Picking up an apple from the fruit bowl, I took a bite. Slightly sour and sweet, I could only chew down on the piece twice. Stephen was going to a party? That meant alcohol, which meant coming home drunk, and… No. Gulping and swallowing the mouthful, I abandoned the partly chewed apple on the table and stormed out of the room. The light hunger that had riled up my stomach disappeared, replaced by a growing nauseated feeling. I heard John calling my name, but for the moment, I decided to give him no attention.

Sprinting up the stairs, I halted at Stephen's door. Trying to cool down my burning lungs, I breathed in fresh air, which seemed limited at the time. With trembling fingers I touched the door knob, twisting it. Maybe I should knock? Grimacing, I quickly entered the room and shut the door behind me, before my traitorous feet decide that running away was better.

"What are you doing here?" that deep voice growled.

Tensing, I wasted only a second before turning around and facing Stephen… well, facing his back of course. Finishing up the last button of his black waist coat, matched with black slacks that fitted him perfectly with a white shirt. He was looking at me from the reflection of the mirror he was facing, now fixing up his fiery hair.

"I…" my voice sounded hoarse all of a sudden, and I had to clear my throat. "John told me that you were going out…"

"I'm not gonna take you with me," he sort of snapped, his green eyes darkening. My chest tightened.

"I-I was not going to ask you to take me," I dropped my gaze to the floor, leaning back against the door.

"Then, what?" he growled again, and I felt his eyes on me. He must have turned around.

"Is it a business party?" damn. Why was it so hard to get straight to the point?

I felt the lack of space. And his presence in front of me. Then my chin was lifted up, but I kept my eyes down. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing," I said through gritted teeth. Did he think that I was someone like him? "Will you be drinking?"

A moment of silence. "Yes-"

"Don't," I cut him off, locking my eyes with his emeralds.

"You can't tell order me what to do," he hissed, pressing against me, swallowing up the little of a space that had been between us. I forced back a gasp, my hands instinctively placing on his broad chest and my face leaning back.

"Then what right have you got to tell me what to do, Stephen?" he pursed his lips, jaws twitching as his eyes roamed around everywhere but not meeting mine. Yeah… for once in his life he was speechless. "All I'm asking is for you to not drink tonight."

"If you're trying to lure me in for something, Randy, with your eyes," he leaned forward, his lips almost brushing against mine, "it's not working."

"If I was trying something like that, I wouldn't have asked you not to drink."

He closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath and resting his forehead against mine.

This was fucking torture.

"Why?"

"Just… don't," I breathed out, my fingers curling against his chest. My eyes were fluttering close, an unsettling emotion taking over my whole body. I didn't know how much time we spent like that, him pressed against me, holding my hips, his lips grazing mine and my fingers curling and uncurling like I was trying to grasp something that I could not.

"Alright," he finally said, "fine."

"Promise?" I barely mouthed it. his lips dangerously brushed against mine, an electric shock running through me at the barely-there contact and then to my utter surprise a longingly lingering kiss was pressed against my forehead.

"Promise," he murmured, pulling away completely. And then I realized I could breathe again. I had been holding my breath. "Randy?" his voice stopped me from slipping out of the room. He waited, until I got courage to look at him again. "If I ask you something, would you honestly tell me the truth?" his eyes were somewhat hopeful.

"I never lie," I said, looking dead in the eyes of Stephen.

"Why…." He looked like he was struggling to form a sentence. "Why aren't you giving up yourself to me? Why are you holding yourself back from me? Why can't you be like everyone else?"

I gave him what he would call a hint of a smile. Why I smiled, I may never know. "Because I'm myself, Stephen. I'm not 'everyone else.'"

XX

My eyes were drifting close, but I could not fall asleep. Just like last night, I found myself staring off into space, particularly thinking of nothing. I could practically feel the bags under my eyes, the burning sensation in my orbs making the heavy feeling worse. I sighed.

That has been the only thing I've been doing for the whole day. John had left with Stephen, taking Evvy with them to drop her off at her friend's house. I remembered the look John had given me when Stephen brushed his lips on my cheek saying that he'd be back in no time. It was pity.

What I had seen in his ocean eyes was sympathy. And I hated it. I released my clenched fingers, and watched them slightly tremble on my lap. There's to not eating. And it was past one in the afternoon. And then something was ringing. A distant sound of a phone going off. Dragging myself off the couch, I sauntered over to where the direction came. It took me a while to find where it came from and found myself entering the dining room. An iPhone was placed on the table. There was no one around.

This wasn't Stephen's phone. But neither was mine, because I didn't own one. the call disconnected as I neared it. But the phone screen kept lightened, displaying the missed call from an unknown number. But what caught my attention was the image that was behind the notification. The picture showed off a couple. Brock… and a brunette girl. They both looked about my age, a picture that had taken a long time ago. I furrowed my brows, cocking my head at her. She was beautiful. She must be or must have been Brock's girlfriend.

But I've never heard of anyone speaking of her. Then again… I have. But it was not of her, but of someone else. Another man… then… who was this girl? My mind was swirling with questions. They filled up my head, a headache forming in my head in confusion.

Wait. If this was Brock's phone….

I spun around, feeling a presence behind me. my breathe hitched, as I came face to face with Brock. How could I have forgotten that he has been in this house with me the whole time?! My eyes widened and I backed away, until my back hit the edge of the table. Gripping te wood, I leaned back when Brock stepped forward, his upper half leaning close to me. an icy wave washed through me, and I caught myself before I shuddered visibly. I turned my face away from him when his lips barely brushed at my ear lobe. Heart beating loudly in my chest, I waited impatiently until he pulled back. from the corner of my eyes I noticed that he has taken the phone from where it was placed.

When he didn't move away, I began to shake lightly. Reluctantly, I looked at his steel blue eyes.

They were cold, colder than ice, but hot, hotter than fire. Unable to keep his intense gaze, I let my eyes drop to the ground.

"Why are you afraid of me?" he asked, in a low voice that was barely audible. I froze, swallowing the non-existed spit down my throat. I had to question myself. Why was I afraid of him?

"I don't know," was my breathed out answer. "B-Brock?" I asked, wondering if I'd have to regret him by his name. he had been walking away from me, but when he heard me calling him, he stopped in his tracks.

He didn't turn around to look at me, but his face turned to his side and I knew he could see me from the corner of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, I parted my lips. "Who is she?"

Silence was deafening. A part of me was expecting him to choke me to death for asking him that question. But I had to ask that. "No one you should know about."

"But… but I need to know," it almost sounded like a desperate whine. Was she the one keeping Stephen and him apart? That was the real question that invaded my mind.

"No," he casted me a cold glare, before leaving the room. My whole body was frozen, not because of his glare but because of something I had seen in his eyes. something, heated, something warm, something like… Passion.

_**I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Do I deserve a review?**_


	11. Chapter 11

**[A/N] Thank you **_IKindaDigCrazyGuys**, **EnvisionVerse**, **euginevereh**, **RKO-flavored-Skittles**, **Bluestar711**, **waldron82**, **Arazei**, **MelancholicBaby**, **BBreakdown**,** takers dark lover**, **Averayy4life _**and guests for reviewing the previous chapter. **

**Was passion in Brock's eyes directed at Randy? : **_Sadly, no. It was for the girl. Everyone can't fall in love with Randy, now can they?_

**Dedication: _waldron82_ **_(For her perfect review! Y'all should check out her Coming To Terms, more Shandy plus Centon in it!) _

**Song of the Chapter: We Are-Hollywood Undead**

**(11)**

It was close to midnight, but still, Stephen hasn't come home. I vaguely remember that he left before the clock hit ten in the morning but since then,there has been no phone call made, no Stephen. I blinked to realize I have wandered into his bedroom. The sight of Stephen's large, soft, comfy bed made my eyes droop close but I blinked again, to snap out of the sleepiness that was trying to invade my whole body. But I couldn't help myself, as my feet feet carried themselves towards the bed.

I sat down in the plush mattress, running my palm over the velvety material of silk sheets and my fingers curling a handful of the fabric. Screwing my eyes shut as memories flooded into my brain, I leaned back, resting my back against the headboard and drawing my legs up the bed, folding them sideways. My eyes ran around the room, taking in the black and red fabrics and dark maroon mahogany furniture, adding a beautiful contrast to the room. Stephen's room was as close to a hotel suite.

Tilting my head to the side and resting it against the wooden board that was behind me. The only thing that was running through my mind was the face of that girl I caught a glance in Brock's phone. It was obvious that Brock loves her, though he or no one else talks about her. I made a mental note to myself to remember to ask about her from John or Evan, since there might be a chance that they may know about it.

But... Why was I worrying about what happened to them? It wasn't like I was going to stay here forever.

My eyes lids opened partially, as a set of knuckles brushed against my cheek. Seeing Stephen's retreating back, I yawned, stretching my legs out and rubbing my eyes. I heard him chuckle and mumbling something about me being a kitten.

Hmph.

These people has to stop calling me a kitten.

I realized that I had fallen asleep some time ago and now it was almost half past one in the morning. Did Stephen arrive just now? Noticing that he was in his casual clothes, a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I frowned. He was sitting at his work table, a pile of files placed on the side of the table. He was searching through one file, wearing a pair of glasses. I didn't know that he wore glasses. Sauntering over to him, I peeked over his shoulder. Scrunching up my nose at the things that I didn't quite understand, I huffed.

And suddenly I was jerked forward, the next second finding myself sitting on Stephen's lap. I was glad that the room was dimly lit, or else he would've seen how furiously I blushed. Alright, I admit, I'm clumsy as hell. But that didn't mean-

"Stephen!" I exclaimed, startled. I buried my face against his neck, inhaling deeply. Then I pulled back, my wide eyes scanning his face. "You didn't drink!"

"Of course not," he mumbled, bumping his nose against mine. "I promised you I wouldn't," he sighed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. My fingers trailed his jaw, still amazed that Stephen would really keep a promise like that. But there was something wrong. Something bad, that he was not telling me. I cupped his face and tilted his head down, making him open his eyes. They held a jaded green, their usual spark lost. There was definitely something wrong with him.

"Stephen..." I called, my voice barely a whisper as I watched his eyes drift off again. Taking off his glasses I placed them on the table, turning my attention back to him again. Heat was radiating off his body, and he felt like a human heater against my skin. Was he sick? "You are hot..."

"Don't I know that?" He teased, attempting a joke to which I glared. Then he cleared his throat, wincing as he did so. "Damn," he said in a hoarse voice, "I don't feel good." My eyes slid down to his chest, stopping at his pecs. They didn't pop like they did whenever I touched him. Yup. He was sick.

"Let's get you to the bed," I mumbled, trying to stand up to help him walk. I was yanked down onto him again, and a grunt reached my ears. "Stephen, come on," I said, as he buried his face against my neck and shaking his head, refusing to let go. I rubbed his scalp soothingly, running my fingers through his hair.

"I need to finish this work," his voice was barely audible. "Have to send them tomorrow."

"You can do them later," I insisted, my brows furrowing in concern when his breaths started to come out in shallow exhales. What was that party about again? It sure didn't seem like a business one. "All you need now is rest."

"Not even my mom says that, Randy," his lips curled, something like a faint, genuine smile spreading across his face. I coked my head to the side, my eyes roaming over his face. Pale, and I meant paler than he normally was, yet handsome nonetheless. Dark bags has started to color under his eyes, his burning hotter than ever. Slowly, I leaned close.

A look of confusion crossed his face, and a moment later his eyes dropped to my mouth. However, my sight was kept firmly locked on his plump, pink lips, the near vision of them making my head spin. And I didn't want to admit that I could be categorized as one of his victims. He parted his lips just as mine pressed against his, letting my upper lip slide between his pair.

He gave a soft sigh, closing his eyes and applying pressure. My hands went to his throat, resting palms on either side of his neck and pulling him closer to me. Just like hours ago before he left, the space between us vanished. There were only two bodies pressed flush against each other,their lips molding into something beautiful, producing a kiss.

Passion that flowed out of the simple action became practically unbearable. Pulling away to take a breath, I panted. He always managed to leave me breathless. One day, I wouldn't have air to breathe around him. I allowed my tongue to trace the entrance of Stephen's bottom lip, hearing him sweetly giving approval and accepting my tongue. His lips closed around my wriggling flesh, making me feel how overwhelming his touch can be. I waited until he freed me, before opening my eyes.

My vision was slightly blurred, not to mention that I was burning inside and I felt warmer than ever, in a different case than Stephen's at the moment. I felt his straining arousal beckoning me feverishly with need, but I had to hold myself back, like I always did around him. Because I had this fear, this fear which uses to engulf me whenever I'm near him, putting invisible restraints and yanking me back before I physically and mentally lose myself to Stephen. Wincing, I rested my forehead against Stephen.

Neither of us acknowledged the way my lips seek his touch as we gave an end to our kiss, though he and I both noticed it. And I prayed, mentally kneeling and close to break down, that he wouldn't ever try to talk about it. And then my hopes were crushed,like someone stepped on a pile of freshly blossomed roses.

"You want me," he breathed, catching my earlobe between his teeth and one hand sneaking up on my groin are. Letting out a shaky breath I grabbed his hand, before he actually realized that I was craving him.

"Don't," I breathed back, my palms feeling all over his upper body. How did he always ended up arousing me like the fire flames in the depth of hell? "You need rest."

"That's not the real reaso-"

"Baby, please," I pleaded, not even realizing what I had called him by.

Deafening silence filled the atmosphere, thick tension hanging in the air above us. "What are you doing to me?" He asked, stealing a kiss from me again.

I should be the one asking that from him. I could feel the restraints pulling me back, away from him. "We'll talk later. I want you to sleep now."

After much talk of pursuation, he seemed to comply with my wants. I stood up, offering him my hand and helping him get up from the bed. He swayed lightly and then leaned against me. I could feel him holding his weight back from me, as if he thought it would crush me. Sighing, I lead him to the bed gestured for him to sit down. He did, groaning as he let his body fall to the bed. I lifted his legs up and placed them in the bed, going over to the door.

"Where are you going?" I heard him ask weakly. I paused, my hand touching the door knob.

"To the kitchen," I said, frowning when he propped himself up on his elbows. "You need some food in your stomach before you go to sleep."

"But I don't want to eat," he whined, twisting his face to a cute grimace. My lips twitched to curve into a smile, as I watched him groan softly and lay back down in the bed.

"You should," I said in an accusable voice, stern and loud. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"Randy," his suddenly panicked voice caught my attention, and I hurried to him before he accidentally fell out of the bed. "Stay here," his eyes were wide, gripping my hands tightly. "Don't go out there. I don't need anything. Please just stay he-"

"Hush now," I said, my heart racing in my chest as I remembered the last time he had acted like this. I could still feel the other one's fingers squeezing down my throat, blocking out my windpipe. I closed my ers, nuzzling my face against his fiery hair. Inhaling the scent of his vanilla shampoo, I let both him and myself calm down. It was like we were living in a horror movie. Everything we seemed to do or think felt like being watched over by someone, unfortunately, that we perfectly well knew. "I won't take that long. I'll be back before you know it."

"Don't go," his hold on me tightened. "Please." Stephen Farrelly never begged.

"I'll be careful, I promise," I vowed, petting a kiss on his head. After a dreadful moment, he slowly gave a stiff nod.

"If you're not here by fifteen minutes, I'm coming down," even though he was sick and looked like weak, he had one of the strongest voices I've ever heard in my life. He basically growled out those words. Giving him an assuring pat, I quickly walked out of the room, before he changed his mind.

Stopping at my room for a few minutes till I changed into a comfortable pair of loose boxer shorts and a long t-shirt, I hastened down the staircase, my feet padding on the floor creating a soft thudding sound. The hanging chandelier was burning candles instead of bulbs at night, giving the whole area ghostly look. Ignoring the chills that threatened to run down my spine, I made my way to the kitchen. Soft clinks reached my ears and I stopped dead in my tracks, wondering who'd be awake at this time of the night.

Except me. And Stephen.

I tip toed to the open entrance of the kitchen, poking my head out. A small frame was working in the kitchen, a plain white t-shirt and a pair of childish pajama bottoms cladding the figure. Grinning wildly, I walked on my toes to him, raising my hands and slowly wriggling my fingers at his sides.

"FUCKIN-" He started, and I clasped a hand over his mouth. He was louder than a freaking container horn.

"Jeez, no need to scream," I let what I said sink into his mind. When he stopped struggling, I allowed him to move away. I couldn't help the shit eating grin I had in my face. "It wasn't like I was gonna murder you."

"Well you definitely acted like it," Evan grumbled, looking me up and down. "What are you doing here at this time of night anyway?"

"Well, I can ask you the same, bunny," I teased, flicking his ear. Then, remembering I had only ten more minutes, I made a serious face. "Evan, are you gonna go to sleep now?"

"Why?" his voice was wary, as he watched I place my butt on the kitchen counter.

"I, uh... I was gonna make some noodle soup for Stephen," I murmured, scratching the back of my head as he gave me a knowing look.

"Playing the 'wife' role I see," he grinned, earning a glare from me. "If you want I'll make the soup and bring it to you. By the way I would have to make a chicken soup. He was never a fan of noodles."

"Really?" I asked, a tightening feeling in my chest nagging me to believe that I was jealous of Evan. I didn't know that much about Stephen. "But... Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Insomnia is taking its toll. I can't sleep," he sighed, running around the kitchen taking things off of shelves. "I was gonna make some tea for me. You want some?"

I made a face. I was not a big fan of tea. Gah. "No, thanks. Weren't you suppose to take two days off? What are you doing here?"

"Apparently, my family has decided that they were leaving to England for a month. They haven't informed me because I didn't tell them that I was coming over. My parents has birthdays on the same day, which will be today. So I wanted to give them a surprise. Sadly, though."

"Oh," was all I could say. Another tired yawn escaped my lips, as I leaned back against the tiled wall.

"You know..." Evan paused for a second, one of his hands holding a carrot and the other holding a knife. "You look like shit."

"You're not the only one to say that," I grimaced, adjusting my back. "I only have a few minutes more, Evvy. I have to go back to him."

"He put you in a time limit?" He asked, raising one of his eyebrows at me.

"I don't really need to say the answer for that now, do I?"

Evan chuckled, shaking his head and going back to his work. "You can go. I'll bring the soup when its ready. Just try to keep him awake until he drinks this. I'll leave a message to Mr. Michaels."I could seriously hug the life out of Evan.

"Thank you," I squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving the kitchen. I was so tired, although I did nothing today, I could barely keep my eyes open. I just hoped that I wouldn't fall asleep before Stephen. Halting at the base of the staircase I took a hold of the wooden railing, one of my hands rubbing my temples. A slight headache was pounding in my head, making it impossible for me to look straight. I waited until the headache subsided a bit, before moving again. This is what happens when you don't sleep for more than twenty-four hours.

That's when I felt someone staring at me. My whole body paralyzed, the intensity of the stare locking me on my spot on the stairs. My heart boomed so loud in my chest, that it was like the organ has jumped into my ears. I gulped, feeling daggers piercing through my back. Maybe it was Evan, trying to scare me out as revenge for what I did to him moments ago.

But hell, was he good at it.

"Evan... Evvy, it's not funny..."

I slightly turned to my side, my eyes wildly scanning through the living room, over the opposite staircase, over the kitchen, and the clearing that lead to the front door. There was no one in the sight. But I still felt those heated eyes on me, like it was trying to melt a glacier. My skin crawled, as a gush of cold wind brushed past my body. Without a second glance, I raced the rest of the way to Stephen's room. I panted hard, collecting myself before entering his room. Otherwise, I'd scare Stephen for no reason at all.

I quietly slipped into the room, remembering to shut the door as quiet as I can.

"Are you angry or something?" I froze.

"What?"

"You slammed the door shut..." Stephen whined, peeking at me with a single opened eye. "And you're screaming." Almost immediately, my mood was lightened.

"That's your head messing with you," I said, chuckling as he hugged the large pillow to himself, making a face and grunting.

"Now what?"

He glanced at me, and then at the pillow, and then at me again. He nodded me to come closer, as he worked on making something like a pillow seat against the headboard. I crossed my arms and watched him do whatever it is he was doing, as it didn't seem like he wanted my help doing it.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the head of the bed, where he had made the seat. Obeying, I sat down. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down the bed until I was half lying and half sitting against the headboard, with a big, soft pillow to make myself comfortable. Then he spread my legs, which I was unwilling at first but did anyway, as what could a sick Stephen do to me anyway?

Slithering between my legs, he rested his body on top of me, his head on my chest and his arms snaking around my waist and locking. "Comfy," he mumbled, nuzzling his face against my chest. So... I was more comfortable than a pillow?Shaking my head, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer and massaging his scalp through his hair. He hummed happily, his eyes closing down.

"Don't fall asleep," I warned, glancing at his peaceful face.

"How can I, when your baby is poking the life out of me," I blushed furiously, attempting to close my legs but then I realized, if I did that I would be locking them around his thighs. There was no way out of this hell. The clock on his night stand passed as we laid there. Me rubbing his head while he kept humming a tune I didn't quite recognize. The time seem to pass, and I could feel that it was getting warmer, because of Stephen. He has to have a cold shower tomorrow, no shit ice packs on his head, before he catch up a virus.

For a fact I knew Stephen wouldn't like it at all. Shrugging to myself, I asked the person to enter, knowing that it was Evan as a fading sound of knock was heard. For the second time of the night I found myself thanking the dim light of the room, as I was the next thing closest to a ripened tomato. If I knew Evan better, he'd be giving me hell tomorrow, teamed up with John. Oh, no. John was not a saint at all.

It took me nearly an hour to make Stephen drink all of the soup. He finally gave up when I grumbled about not having sleep last night because of him and having to spend tonight awake as well. He pouted, causing my anger to disappear but I kept my face stern, not letting him know that he had affected my feelings. Ten minutes later he was sound asleep, soft snores emanating from him.

I already felt like today was going to be a long day, but somehow, something deep inside me didn't settle down. A long sigh dragged out of my lips, as I rested my head back on the pillow. Closing my eyes, I finally permitted myself to fall asleep, feeling that chilling feeling crawl into my senses again.


	12. Chapter 12

**[A/N] Thank you **_Cary99**, **__IKindaDigCrazyGuys**, **EnvisionVerse**, **euginevereh**, **RKO-flavored-Skittles**, **Bluestar711**, **waldron82**, **Arazei**, **MelancholicBaby**, **BBreakdown**,** takers dark lover**, **Averayy4life**,**_ leoxrko**, **_Misty Uchiha _**and guests for reviewing the previous chapter.**

**Averayy4life: **Let's wait and see, shall we?

**Song of the Chapter: **_Buyou-Keri Hilson_

**I'd say this is a pretty boring chapter. I don't know, although it's long, there's nothing good in this as far as I know. Well, judge for yourselves!**

**(12)**

A soft click of something made my eye lids flutter open. A bright light flashed, and immediately I closed my eyes, softly groaning. Harsh whispers reached my ears, like someone was ushering another one to hurry up or something. I couldn't move, a dead weight pinning me down to the pillows that were supporting my back.

I groaned again, this time louder as my spine screamed in protest at the position I have been lying. Cracking my eyes open and feeling them water at the burning sensation, I caught a glance at what looked like a mop of dark brown hair disappearing through the bedroom door, shutting the door behind whoever the person was, blocking my view.

Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. It was awfully warm, warm enough to make my skin slightly slick with sweat. The first thing I noticed was fiery red hair. Frowning, I stared at the head for a moment. Stephen was lying on me the same way he had fallen asleep, his face buried in my chest. His breathing was heavy, and it sounded like he was hysterics. I straightened up as much as I could to get a peek at his face, carefully, as not to wake him up.

As I pushed myself back onto the pillows, he snorted, nuzzling his face against my pec. Despite my obvious blushing, I ran a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat as well. He was still burning like a fire cracker, maybe a tiny bit less than last night. But how he was trying to breathe told me that he was no where near better. Then his evened breathing started to speed up, and I knew he was awake, more so, by the tightening of his hands around my waist.

"Hey," I murmured, rubbing his scalp soothingly. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Mmhmm," was all he hummed, softly sighing afterwards.

I inspected him a moment or so, noticing how red his eye rims were and how dark the bags under his eyes were, his lips hinting a blue. I couldn't help but be worried. "You need to take a shower."

He looked at me with one eye. "I took one last night."

"A cold one for your fever," I corrected, yawning again.

"No," he growled, almost crushing my ribs with his holds.

"You'll be better," I gasped out, my hands massaging his arms, an attempt to get his hold loosened. "I promise."

"What's all with these promises, lately?" he pulled away a bit, finally releasing me but still keeping a hand on my stomach to hold me down. "Did you watch romantic movies or something?"

At that, I laughed, a string of chuckles leaving my mouth. The hand that rested on my stomach crawled up, stopping at my jaw and caressing my cheek.

"Your smile is beautiful," he said in a dreamy voice, his eyes glazing over. I couldn't help but scoff and then burst into a fit of laugh bombs after.

"I think you're the one who has been watching cheesy love stories," I took his hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. Suddenly he leaned up, hovering over me and stole a kiss from my lips. Literally, I didn't even know until he moved back, searching for something in my face.

"I forgot to give you something," he said, and then kissing me on my cheek he slid way to the edge of the bed. I watched in concern, as he took the support of the bed post to stand. When he was on his feet, he swayed dangerously, causing my heart to skip a beat. This man will be the death of me. I jumped out of the bed and made him sit down again, earning myself a delightful glare.

"I'll get it," I said, looking around the room. "Where is it?" When he didn't answer, I looked at him. He was staring, gazing a hole through my... Thighs? "Where the hell do you think you're looking at?" I asked, putting my hands in my hips and narrowing my eyes at him.

"Your sexy legs," he admitted unashamed, that I had caught him perving on me.

"Perve," I muttered, shaking my head at him.

"Hey, I'm your husband," he yanked me closer and kissed my stomach. Jeez. "I have the right to perve on you."

"Knock it out," I said, blushing hard and stepping back. That freaking illness was seriously messing up his head. "So where is it?" I demanded.

"Eager now, are we?" he teased, but the humor in his face vanished at the scorching glare I gave him. "In my bag, on my table. A small white cardboard box tied up with a blue ribbon."

I could feel his eyes on me all the time I rummaged through his briefcase, following my every move. My hand closed around the said box. I fingered it, wondering what could possibly be inside it. I took it to him, stretching out my hand to him.

"Open it up," he said, hooking his hands behind my thighs and making me sit on his lap. At the moment, I didn't even care. Curiosity was at its high, as my fingers laced through the ribbon, unfastening it and letting it fall. A small smile was spread across my lips as I opened it, and...

My smile disappeared. "This is my gift?!"

His features twisted in confusion. "You are not happy..."

"Stephen... This... I don't want this," something like hurt flashed across his face as I handed him the plastic card. It was everything I didn't need.

"Randy," he held on to me as I tried to turn my back on him. His grip around my elbow tightened to the point it would bruise, and I struggled to keep my face straight without wincing. "You do realize you're saying no to a-"

"Credit card, I know," I simply said. "I already wasted your money on clothes that I didn't need. I have to pay that back to you. And I owe your father too."

"In case you didn't remember," he hissed, his face stopping an inch from mine. "_I'm_ the one who wanted to buy you clothes. Did you even realize that when we were in that shop you chose the most plain looking, cheapest outfits? Did that happen because you felt like you need to pay me back? What does it take me to push it into your head that you're my legal partner?" I flinched at his hiss.

"I'm allowed to spend my money on whatever the hell I want and I wanted to make you look good. Not that you don't," he muttered that, "but still. And this, this is also something that I wanted to spend my money on."

"There's a big difference between buying me clothes and handing me a credit card, Stephen."

"Look at me," he growled, taking my chin and turning my face towards his. I reluctantly rose my eyes. "I won't be able to take you out every time you need something, Randy. And I don't want you to go to anyone else for money also if an emergency occurs. Not even Ambrose. And... As for your debt..." he was hesitating. Something was odd, I could feel it tensing up the air surrounding us.

"What of it?" I asked, a hint of fear crawling into my mind. He didn't answer, just dropped his jaded green eyes from mine. "Stephen?"

"I... I paid it. You are... You're free of the debt," he said in a low voice. I froze, trying to get what he said through my head.

"What?" I whispered. No... No, it couldn't be... I felt like a ton of bricks just dropped on to my head.  
"You owe him nothing now. I... Paid him two days after we got married. The money was tranferred from my account to his that evening. I-I'm sor-"

"Save it," I pulled away, yanking him by his shirt and dragging him towards the bathroom. I was too fucking angry to even talk. All this time... all this time has been a chance for me to get out of Stephen's life and have one of my own. All this time, had been a waste of my life, pondering over how to change an unchangeable man.

"Randy, lis-"

"Shut up," I hissed, opening the door to the bathroom and pushing him inside it. "Strip," I commanded, going over to the glass shower stall. My hands were shaking so hard in barely suppressed rage. Then I hissed at myself. The realization hit me like a container crashing through my body. The ton of bricks was nothing.

It didn't matter if I was free of Stephen's father's debt. Now I was under Stephen's. That only made my situation worse. It was like crawling to a rabbit hole to save myself from the rain but ended up in a venomous snake's embrace. Twisting the temperature knob as far as it went, I glanced at the shower stall, which was raining down water to nothing at all. I was shoved forward, into the stall. I felt like I was trapped, as the glass door slid shut with a horrifying screech behind me. Ragged breaths coming out of my lips, I slowly turned around, and immediately my back crashed against the glass wall. "Fuck..." I muttered, wincing at the pain that shot through my spine and the icy coldness of the water that was pouring down on me and...a naked Stephen. I closed my eyes, willing my unwilling self to look away.

"You aren't going to run away from me like that, Randal," he pressed against me, his warm body bringing unwanted warmth for my comfort seeking skin. The water was colder than I intended it to be, but Stephen seemed unphased by it. Maybe it wad because of the fever. Or maybe it was because his attention was only focused on me.

"Don't you want to know why I did it?"

"To get in my pants?" I gritted out, glaring with all the hate I had to pour out of myself. He pursed his lips for a second. His eyes were so dark, so dark in fact I should be afraid of what he'd do to me right now but the hurt that pierced through me prevented the fear.

"I. Want. You. I don't think that I need to say that again and again. I knew that you'd run away with or without me knowing if you ever got to know that you're free. I know you are craving for a chance to get out of this place and you'd jump at the first chance you'll get," my breath hitched when his erect shaft pressed against my abdomen. "And I didn't want you to leave. I don't care about my father's property at all. That mission, was replaced by... You. Believe me or not, you were the first person... To resist me. To reject me for who I am, to turn your back and storm away from the sweetest pleasure. Did you think I would back down from a game like that? No, Randal. No."

"So that is all I am to you, am I not Stephen?" A different kind of a pain shot through my heart, piercing through the solid walls that I had built thinking they were strong enough to withdraw an attack like this. "A game? A fucking game that you wanted to play and when you finish it, would throw away? Like a piece of trash? If you want me so badly you could have taken it by force. It doesn't seem so hard for you now does it? I'm a mere slave before you and your family. You could have easily pinned me down, ripped me apart and break-"

"I'm not _Brock_," he hissed dangerously, his hand wrapping around my throat and squeezing, but not hard enough to draw marks. "Do you hear me, Randy? Because I'm not Brock. I maybe ruthless, but I'm not soulless," his thumb traced my trembling bottom lip. "I wasn't gonna throw you out like trash. I was gonna give you everything, everything you need when it's time for you to leave."

"Maybe I don't want everything, Stephen... Maybe I just need one thing," he searched my eyes, his hands leaving my throat and trailing down my chest, erupting shiver after shiver within me. Recognition filled his eyes, and he closed them, something like disappointment radiating off his features.

"I can't be that man you seek, Randy. I'm not the type of man that stays tied down," was his answer.

"Then let me go..." I brokenly begged. "Let me have my freedom and a man who will fix me," I said, knowing that the said man in my mind was Stephen, and that no one could replace him, ever. But if he can't be the one I was seeking for, then I was better off on my own.

"No," he growled, pressing tightly against me to the point I had to gasp for air. "Not yet."

"Please," I sobbed, feeling hot tears pooling in my eyes. My nails dug into his shoulders, as if they wanted to make him feel the pain I was suffering from.

"No, Randy, I'm sorry," I shoved him away, pushing past him and out of the shower stall. He made no move to stop me, and I had no intention to stay anyway. Stripping off my water dripping shirt, I threw it onto the floor, grabbing a towel from the hanger on the wall and wrapping it around my waist before leaving to my room.

"Just remember, that the sooner you submit, the sooner you get out, Randy."

XXX

I was sure to wipe away the tear streams which flowed down my cheeks before I exited Mr. Farrelly's room. Stephen had been right. He had payed off the money I owed his father.

"This is a father, begging you to give him his son back, Randy." I sighed.

I could hear chatters and silent laughter down the dungeon room. Dean and Wade had arrived in the morning, and it had been them who were creeping around in Stephen's room this morning. Evan had informed Dean about Stephen's sickness when he had called to know why Stephen wasn't answering his phone. I realized that I was staring at the steps that lead to the dungeon room. Shaking my head, I turned to go to the kitchen when I abruptly crashed against a hard chest. Mewling, I stepped back, swaying. Hands grabbed my waist, steadying me.

"He made you cry... Again," I averted my eyes to my fumbling hands and moved back, so his hands fell loosely at his sides.

"Don't act like you care," my voice was barely audible, but I knew he he heard what I said. He shifted his weight to one leg, crossing his arms above his chest, his figure appearing larger as he did so.

"Did I say that I care?" Brock asked, cocking an eye brow at me. See? No one cared. I wondered where was the fear with used to engulf me whenever Brock was around. I didn't feel it in the morning in the shower and I do not feel it now at all, not even a hint even if Brock was right in front of me, blocking my way. Maybe I was too pained and hurt and there wasn't any space for another emotion in me at all. "You aren't here."

I questioned with my eyes.

"You aren't here," he repeated, tilting his head to the side. "Your mind is elsewhere. You're hurt."

Who was this guy? This wasn't the guy who Stephen labeled as a rapist. This wasn't the guy, whose destination in the past six years has been unanswered. I shook my head, walking past him. My elbow was caught, the exact same one Stephen had bruised this morning. A sudden whimper slipped out of my lips, my face twisting in a grimace.

I tried to tug my arm out of his grasp, but his hand caught my wrist tightly,and the other pulled up the long sleeve of my dark blue t-shirt. I bit my lip, hard,when his fingers ignited tingles on my purple, swollen, bruised skin. A soft sigh came from him, and I looked up to see his silver eyes roaming all over the mark. "Anyone else would've treated you better," was all he said, before letting my hand slip out of his.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, fixing up my sleeve and hugging myself. Anyone else would've treated you better. Was he hinting that he'd have treated me better? Gasping in realization, I spun around, only to meet... Nothing. Brock was gone.

My heart sped up its pace, the beats becoming louder and louder by the passing second. Taking deep breaths to calm myself down, I made my way to the kitchen, where my mood always lightens up. Rosa, who told me that she preferred to be called 'Rose,' was cutting up something, her back turned to me. Evan was no where in sight, maybe he has finally fallen asleep. But... What brought my attention was John.

He hadn't noticed that I was there in the room, his face was warmed up, cheeks coloring a light red as he smiled fondly at his phone screen. Somehow, that look of his felt familiar. Like... I remember seeing that look somewhere else, in someone else's eyes. But...

Discarding the thought I sneaked up behind him, stopping right an inch away from his body. My eyes widened, a gasp escaping from my mouth seeing what was in the screen. He jumped startled at the sound of my gasp, his arm swinging back and his elbow jabbing my chest hard. Wincing, I rubbed my chest, trying to breathe as pain waved down my chest to ribs.

"Shit... I-I'm sorry," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and steadying me, for the second time in ten minutes.

"You know, that's why John's a bodyguard," Rose said, chuckling at us. I casted a glare at her, and then turned it at John who was flushing.

"How long?" I demanded.

"Um... For about five months?" he made an innocent face, his blue eyes sparkling like crazy.

"So you and-"

"Don't say his name," John clasped a hand over my mouth, blocking the name I was going to say. "No one knows," he said, glancing at Rosa. I gave a nod, grabbing his wrist and pulling away his hand from my mouth.

"You should have at least told me," I insisted, giving him a soft smile.

"We were gonna come out on Christmas, you know, since there's only three weeks more."

"Well... I'm happy for you two,"I patted his cheek, earning a sunny smile from him, with his dimples as a bonus. "Where's Evan?"

"Sleeping," he confirmed my thoughts.

"Poor guy has been so sad over not being able to see his family," Rosa added, pointing the fact with a carrot. I stiffled the laugh which threatened to come out of my mouth at the look on her face. Not that I was humoring what happened to Evan no, but Rosa wearing a black dress with a lace white apron and a chef hat in her dark hair, a carrot in her hand was just too.. Funny. And I heard chuckles rumbling through John's chest.

"I never noticed you were wearing a uniform, Rose," I said, looking at her up and down. "It looks nice on you."

"Why thank you," she bowed her head slightly, blushing. "Did-"

"Randy!" My head snapped to the kitchen entrance, where Dean was leaning against the door frame, panting. I walked to him, wondering if something was wrong. "I had to search every room in the house to find you," he accused, running a hand through his hair.

I cocked an eye brow. "Really?"

He tsked, grabbing my hand. "He's asking for you."

"Who are you? Hermes?"

Dean rolled his eyes, not saying anything. Dragging me to the dungeon room he finally released my hand. That's when my eyes met Stephen's for hours after our incident. I immediately diverted my glare to the floor, slowly walking to him. The TV was on, possibly a horror movie playing, by all the screams I could tell. Forcing down the bile that rose up my throat, I stopped at the couch he was sitting on with Wade.

"You called for me?" I asked, my voice almost drawn out by the sounds of the home theater system. His fingers tangled with mine, tugging softly. I looked at him, just in time to see him motioning for me to sit on his lap. Sighing, I did so, tensing when his arms locked around me, pulling me against his chest. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and I knew they weren't Wade's. Wade was so into the movie, sitting at the edge of his seat; he hadn't even noticed that I was sitting beside him.

Stephen's warm breath fanned against my neck, but it wasn't as hot as before. I heard Mr. Lloyd's car arrive and leave in the morning, which meant he had looked over Stephen and has given medicine. Which meant that I would no longer have to worry.

"Relax," he murmured, drawing circles on my stomach. How could I, when I had all but poured my life out for him, and he just brushed me away like I was nothing. Of course, I was just another pawn in his never-ending game.

"Why did you ask for me?" I slightly turned my head towards him, his lips brushing mine in the lightest touch in contact, as his addictive scent filled my senses. Then he rested his chin on my head, exhaling deeply.

"I just...wanted to see you," hurt filled my heart. Did he say those words for real, or was he just playing his game already? I nodded, placing my hand on his in order to stop his movements on my skin. I was never a fan of modern horror movies, being used to watch classics with my dad. And I had very good reasons, to prefer old ones over the re-makes. Like right now, where a disfigured, disgusting creature of a monster was raping a barely fifteen year old girl. Nausea rolled in my stomach, as I shifted on Stephen's lap,turning my back to the TV. The screams and violation was too much for me to bare, especially when I was in a situation close enough to the one in the movie. The only changes were my age... And the monster being beyond handsome.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gently caressing down my spine.

"Wo-would you mind if... If I go sit with Dean?" I touched his chest, where I could feel his heart throbbing under my finger pads.

"Of course not," he replied, but I sensed that he didn't like the idea very much. But I got up anyway, feeling an unusual coldness surrounding me as I planted my butt next to Dean, opposite to Stephen.

For a long moment we stared at each other, me with my eye brow raised and Dean with his eyes narrowed, as if he was judging me. "Something fishy..." he muttered, looking me up and down. If it was possible, my eye brow rose a bit more upward.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he hissed, glancing at me and Stephen back and forth. "You gave up, didn't you?"

I gulped, hard. Was it that much obvious?

"The way you move... you orient yourself around him without even thinking. Bow your head to whatever he say or do... When he does something, you follow, adjust to the way he wants you... Like a magnet... You gave up yourself to him, didn't you Randy?" Dean's eyes pierced into mine, but his were intense, as if he was trying to look through my soul. "You weren't like this when I first met you..."

"Hypocrite," I mocked an angry face, an attempt to redirect his attention at anything else but me and Stephen.

"Huh?" He frowned, furrowing his brows.

"You're trying to make you tell about mine and Stephen's personal life when you've been secretly dating John for the past five months," his mouth hung open, eyes wide and scared. "Don't worry," I added, as his face showed a mixture of anger and surprise. "John didn't tell me anything. I found out about you guys by myself. I haven't told anyone, and neither I will. So you don't have to worry."

Dean pursed his lips for a few seconds, glancing at Stephen and Wade to see if either of their attention was on us. Then, he shrugged, his cheeks tinting a pink. "Never thought I'd be with someone like him... You know... I prefer bad boys."

Then you're just like me, Dean.

"I may not know you or John like Stephen and Evan does... But, he's perfect for you. You have my support," I smiled, giving his shoulder an assuring squeeze. The corner of his lips quirked up, producing a gentle smile.

"Thank you... And, like always, Randal, you managed to distract me from the main subject." I sighed. "What made you give up, huh? Did he threaten you or something?"

I dropped my gaze.

_"Just remember, that the sooner you submit, the sooner you get out, Randy."_

"No... I just want to get out of here. I'm not used to this kind of environment and I certainly do _not_ want to stay here... Especially, because Brock is here," I chose to blame this on Brock.

"Liar," Dean whispered, glaring. "He did something didn't he?"

"Dean please," I whispered back, shattered plead slowly dragging out of my mouth. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You aren't giving up, you hear me? You're not. You're stronger than this," Dean hissed, sadness crawling to his words despite the anger that were coating them. "You're the perfect punishment for someone like him, Randy. You have to save him from his ignorant misery."

"Why are you all relying on me, Dean? I'm not some kind of a superman. You are telling me to save him, but... who will save me? What about my life? Why does no one care about what happens to me?"

He remained silent, his face twisting to a guilt filled expression.

XXX

His lips were planted on my forehead in a lingering kiss, his hands gripping my hips. My heart raced in my chest, as if it was trying to catch something that was impossible to stop. The pace of my breathing increased, as his lips latched on the base of my neck, at the crook of my neck. Teeth bit down harshly, scratching and marking a spot.

Claimed.

I screwed my eyes shut, when Stephen rained bites all over my throat, collarbone, chest and nipples, followed by kisses and soothing licks. There was no sensation; I was feeling nothing at all. Lying on my back in the bed, eye lids shutting out the world and the aching, bitter truth about the current situation, hands balled to fists and clenching the bed sheets till knuckles are white, toes curled, waiting for the pain to come. Waiting to be claimed.

His touch was cold, not igniting that hot trail of fire flames like whenever he did before. "Open your eyes and look at me," it was a command. I did, forcing my eye lids apart and forcing myself to look into his nearly black wanton lust filled eyes which held nothing that revolved around the word, 'tender.'

I gasped out, unable to stop myself when his weight crashed down on my body, his groin crashing against mine. His prone member pressing against my limp shaft. Nothing erotic, nothing arousing. Not a single feeling in my heart for this man, just an empty shell. His teeth pierced me once again, sinking into my shoulder blade. His hips riding against mine, his clothed crotch rubbing against my boxers clad groin. His hands hooked behind my thighs, prying my legs apart for better access.

His breathy noises filled my ears, and I felt his fingers curling around my wrists, prying them away from the sheets and pinning them above my head. Then his hands left my wrists, running through my hair and fisting handfuls, yanking my head back and exposing my throat to his view. But my hands stayed where they were; where he wanted them to be. My mouth was dry, although I was constantly swallowing non-existent saliva, like Stephen had sucked out the life out of me with his bites.

I winced in pain when his teeth grazed an already marked spot, abusing the reddened skin. The erratic thrusts of his hips stopped, as he pulled back and roamed his eyes all over. There was nothing but lasciviousness in the eyes that I used to think were so beautiful. I choked back a sob, my eyes streaming the tears that I barely kept contained inside me. His hands rubbed my sides, as if to sooth me. "I won't hurt you."

"I hate you," I whispered, turning my head to my side so I didn't have to face him when he... destroyed me. I closed my eyes, as my body shook uncontrollably, for the first time today fear hitting me in its full force. I was scared, so fucking scared of him. No, not of what he'd do to me, but of how he'd act _after he had me_. His hands froze at my sides, and I opened my eyes to see that he was staring at me with an unreadable emotion in his devilishly handsome features.

Then he moved, averting his gaze to the lower part of my body, his fingers trailing the skin on my abdomen where it met the waistline of the boxers. I let out a shattered breath, bracing myself for the pain to come. An agonizingly slow minute passed...

And nothing happened.

I breathed sharply, panic rearing its head inside me as Stephen shook his head, kneeling on the bed. When he made an attempt to move away, I shot up from my position, sitting on the bed. Tears wildly ran down my cheeks, as I held onto his biceps.

"You can't stop here, Stephen," Panic filled my veins, as my body shook violently with suppressed sobs. "Take me now... Take me now and end this right here, at this moment... You can't-"

"Randy..."

"You can't back down like that... Please, I'm begging you, take me-" my head snapped to the side, by the force of Stephen's hand connecting with my cheek. Ignoring the stinging burn, I let my hands fall loosely at my sides, my eyes closing and my body swaying.

"I can't," Stephen whispered, running a hand through his hair. Then he looked at me, and something like dread emerged in his face. "I'm sorry, I... I can't, baby," he wrapped his arms around me as I broke down, pulling me against his chest. He was holding me like his life depended on me, but insecurity made me think otherwise. What was happening? Why did he stop? Why can't he do it? What is stopping him?

Worn out, I slumped against him, letting him embrace me in a strangely comforting way. Still a sob or two escaped from my lips, but I drifted off, hearing him apologizing to me again. I was tangled in the most messed up. agonizingly sweet, venomously addictive man I've ever met in my life. And it was hard to believe in, that I'd somehow end up trapped in his coil.


	13. Chapter 13

**[A/N] You wouldn't believe what I did at the end. I'm the female version of a S.O.B. As always thanks to everyone who reviewed, all of your reviews are greatly appreciated. Please remember to show your support by dropping a review.**

**Song of the Chapter: The Other Side-Jason Derulo**

**(13)**

All I remember is, my arms tightening around his neck, pleading him not to leave me. I could still feel his lips on my cheek, assuring me he'll be back before I knew it. And here I am, three days after, standing in front of the mirror staring at my pathetic self. I haven't seen him in three days. Three nights of forcing myself to stay awake hoping he would come back and pull me into an embrace.

The only ever sleep I got was a few hours in-between the meals, excluding dinner. I didn't want to go downstairs, sit there all by myself under all of his family member's eyes. Where was he? He wasn't at home, that was sure. If he had gone over to Dean's, John would have told me. But no news from him, or anyone else. And I didn't have the guts to ask from his parents, fearing they'd question me about it. With the happy-couple facade me and Stephen had pulled up, a simple question would ruin it.

Word was, that Mr. Farrelly's sister, Matilda Farrelly-McIntyre was coming for dinner. Her only son Drew, being aged twenty, studying Mathematics in Rome and has visited to see his parents here, that being the cause of the dinner tonight. I faintly remember Mrs. McIntyre, from the wedding of course, an exact clone of Mr. Farrelly despite the fact that she's a woman. Everyone always tried to stay on her good side, Rosa told me, because she can be a vicious, bitter bitch if she wanted to. Being that I'm so lucky, it'd be surprising if she didn't cross wrong paths with me tonight.

I made my way down, climbing down the stairs with a solemn look on my face. Once again I looked at the front doors, hoping Stephen would emerge from them sooner or later. After what seemed like an eternity, I sighed and shook my head at myself. I've got to stop dreaming about things that I wouldn't have. Things that I was not fortunate enough to have. Just as I reached the kitchen, Evan ran up, not noticing that I was coming by the entrance. It was too late as I tried to move away, him crashing against me with an adorable 'oof.'

"Evan," I chuckled, holding him by an arm's length away and examining him. "Slow down."

"No time," he panted, patting the bunch of serviettes in his hand. "They're on their way here."

"Must inform Master Farrelly," Rosa muttered, rushing past us. "Evan, hurry up!" she urged him, sending me an apologetic look. Full in fuel, full on speed.

"Give me those, I'll arrange them," I took the serviettes from his hand, asking him to bring on the dishes. Breathing a thank you at me, he ran into the kitchen again, to prepare the plates. Everyone was in a hurry. Mrs. Farrelly running here and there with two other maids to make the appearance of the rooms presentable, Mr. Farrelly having a serious talk with John and some other guy. Of all the people, Brock and Stephen was missing, the ones that should be here. Finishing up placing the serviettes, I looked around. Everything was looking good, thanks to Mrs. Farrelly.

That's when I heard a hiss. My eyes roamed everywhere in sight, searching for the source. When I found none, I shrugged it off letting it slide to the side. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting me. And then I heard it again, my head snapping to the direction where the door to the library was placed. Frowning, I stared at it for a second. There... There was the sound again. My heart's beating increased, and my breathing quickened as I tip toed to the door. My hand ghosted over the door knob, debating whether or not to open the door. What if.. What if it's a sna-

I jumped violently, when the sound of a car approaching was heard. I let myself forget about the unusual hisses behind the door, turning my back to it to go to the front door. What if it's Stephen that had come? And a soft sound of a click was heard, and before I realized what was happening, arms snaked around my waist, yanking me into the library. My attempt to scream was cut off by a hand, and my wildly kicking legs accidentally kicked the door shut, which only made fear crawl into my senses.

"Hush now," he said, making my whole body freeze. I let my arms and legs go limp, giving up fighting until he released me. But his hands never left my hips. I spun around, shoving him as hard as I can.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. The last hint of fear disappeared, replaced by anger. I glared at him, as he ran a hand through his hair, giving me a frustrated look.

"Was at Barrett's," he muttered.

"You could have at least told me, without giving me false hopes, Stephen," I reasoned, fixing up my expression to not show him any sadness. Yet, I felt my heart swell as I looked at him, his green eyes sparkling like emeralds.

"I don't have to tell you everything, Randy," his voice was cold, but it sounded as if he forced himself to say that, just to make an excuse. I shook my head at him, disappointed. He was impossible. And he made it my cue to leave. "I missed you, you know," he mumbled that just as I was going to storm off the room. My heart skipped a beat, as my whole body went rigid at his words. What? "I really missed you."

I turned to him again, inspecting his emotion. His face showed nothing but the truth. Not even caring that there was a possibility to get myself hurt again, I let my chest tighten with an unknown feeling, letting the caged butterflies free in my stomach. Then I let the hound of my soul chase after the rabbit that was willing.

My arms wrapped around his neck, as his locked around mine, pulling me against his chest in a loving embrace. As I fully pressed my body against his, the hold of his arms tightened, as if to feel all of me. "God," he whispered, burying his face against the crook of my neck. For the first time in a long time, I felt content. I had almost forgotten how fucking good it felt to be imprisoned in his arms, even if it meant forever. Combining with the bitter truth that rang in my inner soul, the sensation turned into pained pleasure. His lips planted kisses all over my neck, not even stopping to have a breath. His hands roamed down my hips, my body tensing when they ran over my ass and stopped at the back of my thighs.

My breathing hitched, as he hooked his hands behind my thighs and lifted me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist for support. He carried me over to one of the long tables that were placed in the library, and sat me down on it. Then he pulled an inch away from me, his eyes taking in my appearance. I rested my forehead against his, tugging the hair on the back of his head gently. "You look sexy," a teasing smile spread over his pink lips, bumping his nose against mine. I flashed him the tiniest of smiles that I could muster up. I wouldn't exactly call dark washed jeans and a black button up shirt with its long sleeves rolled up to my elbow 'sexy.' I looked plain and simple, just the way I want myself to be. Yet, Stephen always managed to complicate myself up with his bipolar emotions.

"You look better than me," I muttered, referring to his dark green t-shirt and khaki colored cargo shorts. Maybe his outfit was too casual, but it was his choice. Curling my hand in the fabric of his shirt I tugged him closer, so that inch of a separation between us vanished as I leaned in for a kiss. And I only got a brush of his lips.

"Ahem," hastily pulling away, I slid off the table, going to hide behind Stephen with a red face. I could tell he was blushing also, with the way the back of his neck coloring. I knew it was Mr. Farrelly, by the sound of the deep voice but I didn't dare look up, I was too embarrassed. I pressed my face against Stephen's back, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. "You two should be out there... It's nice to see that you're home in time, son," he said, giving a stiff nod at Stephen.

"Yeah... How did you know we were here?" Stephen asked, one of his hands coming behind his back and holding mine, intertwining our fingers.

"Well, apparently, some mice were making noices in the library and I had to check," he mused, cocking an eye brow at us. I blushed furiously, hitting Stephen's back with my fist to tell him that it was his fault.

"We'll be there soon," Stephen promised, and waited until the door was shut and Mr. Farrelly was out of the room. "Now... Where did we stop?" he asked, facing me and pushing me back against the table, the edge of it digging into my lower back. Although slight pain erupted from it, I cared none. All I could focus on were his eyes, darkened to the point where the hazel specs around his iris were shining in a remarkably beautiful way. I leaned my face towards him again, pretending like I was going to kiss him. It came out of nowhere; I tilted my head as his face came forward with his eyes closed, and just before his lips touched mine I shot forward, biting down on the base of his left jaw where his ear met it, taking him by surprise.

"Not now," I murmured, a playful grin stretching my lips as I pushed him away, chuckling as he blinked out the shock. Opening the door I stepped out, anxiety replacing the butterflies in my stomach. Stephen followed, closing the door and holding my hand, he dragged me to the entrance of the dining room. He halted, just before crashing into Mrs. McIntyre. An audible gasp escaped from my lips, as I pulled Stephen back. Piercing green eyes gave us a scorching look, and I saw Stephen visibly tensing up.

"It's been two weeks since I last saw you, my boy," she screeched- well, her voice sounded like screeching- dramatically motioning from her hand. "You're looking good. And as for our son in law," her stare stabbed my soul, as she shrugged. "Looking better than before. Of course," her tinkling laugh made me shiver, "good money means good fashion."

And I was wearing the outfit which I wore on my graduation. Now, I knew why most of people hated her. Mrs. McIntyre naturally gave off the bitchy vibes to the ones around her. Though, I politely bowed my head and thanked her for saying it, even when I didn't need to do that. Stephen gave my hand an assuring squeeze, which didn't go unnoticed by her. I stepped closer to Stephen, wishing I was invisible. I was already sick of her.

"Come on now, darling," she cooed at Stephen, gesturing him to follow her into the dining room again. "Sit," she ordered to Stephen. I saw from the corner of my eye Stephen gritting his teeth, but he did so anyway. He tugged my hand, silently telling me to sit by his side, which I reluctantly did. I knew by the look of his aunt's face, that clearly, she did not want me to be there. Then the others followed, except Brock. Where was he? Just as the though finished, he came trudging to the table, taking the only empty seat which was to the left of me.

Unlike his usual sleeveless t-shirt and sweat pants, he wore a dark grey t-shirt, and a pair of light blue denim jeans giving a pleasant and presentable sight. He glanced at me, and then at everyone else who were staring at him as if he had grown another head. He sighed softly, folding his hands on his lap like me, waiting for someone to continue the talking.

"Hey, kiddo," Stephen smirked at Drew, who was sitting directly across me next to his mother, noticeably quiet. "You've grown up... And your hair's grown."

"What can I say, cousin?" he smirked in reply. "I like to look good."

"You look like a chic," Brock added, making a face of innocence. "It suits you." I was surprised. Stephen and Brock knew how to mind their manners in the table, at least. Still, it gave me a strange happiness to see the brothers interacting even if it's indirectly. And again I wondered where was the fear I felt towards Brock in the beginning. Was it his question made me think back and realize that there was no valid reason for me to be afraid of him? But all those things everyone said... Especially the ones that Stephen said...

"Yeah, right. You two should go look at yourselves in the mirror. One is a blonde, and the other can't walk under the sun without getting as red as ketchup," Drew shot back, and I couldn't hold back a few chuckles. "I don't know how you're managing with this vampire," he said to me, shaking his head. "And of course this human bulldozer," he pointed at Brock with his eyes.

Then Evan and another boy came in, holding steaming dishes. As they set up the table, I watched in silence as the brothers chatted with their cousin and the adults talked among themselves. Mr. McIntyre was a merry man, laughing heartily with Stephen's dad while his wife looked like she was probably boasting about the huge ring she wore at Mrs. Farrelly. I didn't know why I disliked her. Maybe it was because she didn't like me either but everyone can't like everyone and she is allowed to have her own opinion. Maybe it was because she looked like a human Barbie doll with excessive make-up, unlike Mrs . Farrelly who wore it natural and was actually looking beautiful. Or maybe it was the fact that she didn't exactly look like a mother figure. I looked down, when Stephen caught my hand in his. His eyes were questioning if I was alright, and my response was a soft smile. Even if I tried, I could never hold a grudge against this man, which made me doubt myself of what exactly I was feeling for him. Was it lo-

"So, Brock," Mrs. McIntyre turned her attention to Brock, who stiffened but looked at her silently. "How did your time the rehabilitation unit go?"

Did she just say Rehabilitation Unit?

I dropped my gaze to my lap, my heart thudding loudly in my ears.

"It went well, thank you," Brock replied with a strained voice. However, the question was strangely affecting him in a bad way.

"So you're not going to go crazy again on us?" she asked with a giggle, which sounded almost cruel.

"I hope not," he diverted his gaze, ending the conversation. I felt my hand placing itself on his thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze. Why I did it, I had no idea but I felt like he needed some assurance.

"So Stephen," then she turned to Stephen. "How's the business going?" Isn't that question supposed to be asked from Mr. Farrelly? "I heard you are going to receive the ASIKIS' contract. Now that isn't a surprise, seeing that your company rates higher than all others." Tell me again, if she knew about everything why was she asking?

"Yes, aunt," Stephen said, dislike toward her evident in his voice, but she didn't seem to care. Or was it my mind playing games on me? "ASIKIS is the biggest contract ever that our company is gonna receive. I'll be flying over to Rome in two weeks."

My heart stopped. He was going to leave? How was I suppose to manage him going over to another country when I couldn't even handle him going over to his friend's house? I sighed.

"You can stay over with Drew, you know?" She suggested and then turned to me, not only giving her attention to me but solely focusing on me. "Speaking of work, young one, what is your ambition? Of course since money is no problem at all for you now, I'd like to know what are your plans for your future." She said it so easily, that I felt so sick that I wanted to throw up right there. I composed myself up, giving her a small smile.

"I want to be a writer," I simply stated.

"A writer?" she acted surprised, but her eyes showed disdain. "Documentary or Novellas?"

"The latter, ma'am," I replied, and this time she didn't hide the disgust in her face.

"Well, needless to say, that is such an unworthy occupation, young man," does she even know my name? "That's complete waste of labor right there," she insisted, motioning with her hand again. "You must do something that will earn you money because we all here knows that you'll only be Stephen's husband for another month or so." My chest tightened,a shot of pain shooting right through my heart.

"Aunt Matilda, I'd appreciate it if you stop right now," Stephen growled, as he intertwined his fingers with mine. I averted my eyes to the floor, but my breathing stopped immediately, as my free hand was captured by none other than... Brock. All of the members sitting at the table had stopped talking, and everyone's eyes were on me and Mrs. McIntyre.

"Admit it, Stephen. You've never stayed in a relationship more than two weeks except with Run-"

"Matilda, that's inappropriate-"

"Please, brother," she held out a hand at him. "You know I'm saying the truth."

"Excuse me," I said in a barely audible voice, getting up from the table. I couldn't stand it anymore. Both of Brock and Stephen's hands slipped out of mine. It was what she wanted, to drive me out of the family moment. That was okay, she could have told me not to sit with them and I'd happily comply, preferring to stay in my room. But apparently she likes it rough, because she chose the hard way, humiliating me in front of everyone. It's wasn't something to be humiliated, wanting to be a writer, but in her eyes I was a disgrace to the family. She made me feel like I was worth only two cents. Hurrying up the stairs- seeing Brock excusing himself and going to his own room, I managed to contain the tears in until I reached my room. Letting them freely stream down my face, I entered the room, leaving the door open.

Stripping off the clothes I wore, I tossed them carelessly onto the floor, the only thing in my mind being getting a hot, steamy shower to sooth my senses. I waited outside the shower, watching the hot water that rained down the roof of the shower stall like an actual rain filling the glass cube in hot steam, making the walls draw fog to them and blurring the clearness of the glass. A shattered sigh dragged out of my lips as I entered the shower, scorching hot water splashing down my body. Unlike an icy cold shower, this always made my stress fade away. I especially loved the fog it gave, as it was something I liked to be concentrated on despite the stress. On the plus side, it was an almost cure for the headaches I've been recently having.

I cupped my hands, trying to catch the mist. Childish, but pleasing. But soon I gave up, as the headache worsened. I whimpered, holding my head in my hands. "Randy?" a distant sound was heard, and I could only lift my head up. "Randy?" arms enclosed my body, and immediately I knew it was Stephen. At the moment I didn't care if I was naked, or if he was naked, but feeling his touch. Pressing me against the glass wall he held me tight, murmuring soothing words. Apologies, assuring phrases, scoldings, all was heard from him but nothing from me. Abruptly he stopped, finally noticing that I was silent. "What's wrong?" he asked, worry painted all over his handsome features. I lightly winced, touching my head. "Headache?" I nodded.

Then his arms left my body, and for a moment I was confused. The next second he was rubbing my temples gently with his index and middle fingers, once in a while pressing a kiss to my forehead. I watched in amazement as he made my headache subside to a dull pain. He stopped when I touched his wrists, cupping my face afterwards. "Feeling good?" I nodded again. Just a throb of pain here and there. I faintly remembered the Dr. at the hospital telling me to contact him if I constantly got headaches. Maybe it was time that I took a trip to the hospital. Recently been in a coma, he had said not to hesitate a moment if something comes up. But I shrugged off. Later matters for later, not now.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Stephen said, kissing my temple. My heart skipped a beat as he said that, casually. "This is why I never like family dinners and I never come home when we have one."

"Then why did you come tonight?" I asked, touching his face. "I saw how you acted around her."

"I didn't want you to go through it alone," he was reluctant as he said that. My heart swelled then he nuzzled his face against my neck, seemingly ending the subject there. We stayed like that for some time, both of our naked, wet bodies pressing against each other and oddly, he made no move on me. "Let's play a game," he suddenly chirped up, grinning. I gave a sad smile, realizing his attempt to cheer me up. But I was not in the mood.

"Not twenty. Just one tonight."

He pouted adorably, but nodded nonetheless. "Okay... So..." his eyes ran over nothing in particular, searching for a question. Then he locked his eyes with mine. "Tell me something... Tell me something that you've never said or done with anyone else."

I thought it over. Something that I've never... "Would you laugh at me if I say one?"

"Never," he assured, sincerity coating his voice.

"You..." Why was it so hard to get those few words out of my mouth? "You are... The first one to kiss me... You're my first kiss... On the altar," embarrassment washed through me, and even the hot water wasn't enough to fade the redness away from my face.

"Does... Does that mean these," he traced my bottom lip with his thumb. "These were virgin lips until I kissed them?"

I gave him a nod, hanging my head in shame.

"My God..." he pressed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

"Can... Can I ask you something?" I bit my bottom lip, which made him capture my upper lip between his for a brief moment and the release. Was that the approval? "Why... Why did you stop? That night... when we... when we..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. He sighed deeply, screwing his eyes shut as if he had been afraid that I would ask about it. But it was too late and I was craving his answer.

"I... I was scared..."

"Scared of what?" I was the one who should have been afraid.

"When you said... you hate me," my chest tightened, as he tightened the embrace. "I became afraid... For some reason I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to think about you hating on me. And when I looked at you what I saw wasn't... wasn't hate... They were so grey... So grey that they almost looked like silver. That beautiful hint of blue you had in your eyes was gone. Which meant that you're beyond... Broken. And I started to hate myself for doing that to you.

I left because I didn't want to see that look in your eyes. You were half asleep when you were begging me not to go. You were barely conscious and didn't even know what you were doing. I thought... If I gave it a few days it would recover, and I was right. But I still see it sometimes in your eyes," Stephen opened his eyes, and I could clearly see he was waiting for the rejection. Instead, I leaned in, kissing him hard. Latching onto his lips, I let myself fall.

I might have to leave this house sooner or later, and he might not want to accept me forever, I might give into him sooner or later, but not now. Right now, I let myself fall. Fall into the darkness of his touch, to the madness of his lust. Fingers tangles in his hair, I forced his face into mine, passion, heat, overflowing the hotness of the water that was cascading down on us.

"I... Want... You..." I gasped, in between his kisses. He suddenly pulled away, creating a gap of a foot between us. I inched closer, making him back away again.

"What?"

"I want you, Stephen. I want you to make me feel good," I cupped his face. "I want you to touch me, I want to feel you against me... But... We're not going all the way tonight. But still... I want you," that exact moment his eyes blackened, and in a flash, my back crashed against the glass wall, my hands making hand prints that dragged through the glass walls. His lips slammed on mine, in a bruising force. My lungs were protesting, my chest burning but I let him do what he wanted, let him kiss me.

Tongues battling in a non-winning war, warm flesh clashing and wriggling against each other. There was that tingle... There were the sparks again... Sparks that made my lips quiver, electric jolts that ran down my spine and all over my body, causing goosebumps on my skin. I mewled as he marked me with his teeth, sinking his fans into my throat drawing blood. claimed once again. How will I ever live without him? "Don't... hold back... like yo-you d-did... the whole night... Let go..."

His hands ran down my chest, fingers rubbing my nipples and pinching them both hard, at the same time. I cried out, eyes tearing at the sweet pleasure and locked my arms around him, pulling his lips into another hard kiss. Sucking on my bottom lip, his hands roamed lower, over my abs, feeling them ripple under his slightest touch. And he liked it, he liked it so much that he repeatedly brushed his hands over them, occasionally grazing them with his nails, earning moans from me. Then he let out an animalistic growl, his teasing stopping. I breathed in deeply, realizing that I had held my breath in for a long time and then gasped, when one of his arms grabbed my left thigh and patted it, silently asking me to wrap that leg around his thigh.

"Stephen..." I whimpered, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as our crotches rubbed in together. His hips thrust in a rhythm, creating friction. Wave after wave of heat rushed down to my groin, as I pressed against him to feel him as much as I can. Evident arousal made impact by each move of his hips, soft breathy mewls dragging out of my lips.

"Bed," he panted, reluctantly letting me go only to scoop me up in his arms, his lips connecting with mine. I tilted my head up as much as I can, so he wouldn't have to crane his neck down and feel uncomfortable. Somehow, he turned off the shower and the lead ourselves to the bed. Tossing me into the soft mattress, he climbed right in, and I backed up in the bed to give him more space. He crawled up, his hands going to my hips as his dark green eyes examined me all over. Then he leaned in, a contented sigh leaving his lips as he kissed me again. "You're so fucking beautiful... that it hurts me to look at you," he pulled away, nipping and sucking at my throat as our shafts collided again.

I moaned loudly, as his cock rubbed furiously against mine, and at the same time feeling his teeth grazing the base of my neck, catching the silver chain between his teeth. He tugged it, until the chain came off and I gasped, as he threw it somewhere into the bed. Before I could see where it landed he bit down on my throat again, at the crook of my neck. I could still feel a small trail of blood leaking out of the previous bite, but I didn't care. All I could feel was the heat collecting in my abdomen, the tightening in my lower parts and the pleasure that literally radiated off me as Stephen rubbing hard and fast on my erected member, friction almost coming to the point it was unbearable.

I cried out, as my back arching off the bed as I released thick blobs of cum onto my abdomen and his, with a few more thrusts his own cream coating over mine. My head was spinning as I curled around him, breathing evening as he pressed against me more. It was beyond perfection, having to be with him like this. That was something I can't even dared to think about two weeks ago.

"You're perfect," I heard him mutter, before I blacked out.


	14. Chapter 14

**[A/N]** _Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I think I don't have to tell how much I love you all! Now on a special note, don't dismiss the person who appears on the first part of this chapter. He's a special person in Randy's life, and in near future... Well, let's see what happens, eh?_

**Song of the Chapter: **_Tear Away-Drowning Pool_

**(14)**

For the thirtieth time, John looked around. I sighed, smacking the back of his head. He looked at me startled, but then composed his expression and cocked an eye brow at me. "Relax," I gently pushed him, "it's not like we're kidnapping someone. We're just here to get a hair cut."

"Oh?" his other eye brow rose, now both half-hiding under the black, flat cap he was wearing. Not to mention, it looked ridiculous on him. He looked at me like I had grown another head.

"Did you not notice the salon we've stopped in front of?"

His eyes snapped to the cream-colored building, his cheeks brightening a bit. Giving me a sheepish look, he ushered me forward. Somehow, I could tell something was off of him. Slightly frowning, I touched his arm as we entered the salon, which made him jump. Yup, there was definitely something wrong with him. "John-"

"Hello, there. What can I do for you gentlemen?" A woman interrupted me, flashing an almost arrogant grin. Her eyes raked over me, and then her grin dimmed a bit seeing the thin gold band that was wrapped around my finger. She smacked her cherry red lips causing a 'pop' sound, flicking her equally crimson hair back.

Brushing her attitude off, I let my hand fall to my side noting myself to remember to talk with John later. "Need to get my hair cut," I explained, and followed her as she gestured for me to. Giving her instructions I settled in the specific chair she wanted me to sit. On the front wall was a mirror, a long one which covered the whole wall from the height above my mid section. And I noticed I could keep an eye on John, who was standing- not even glancing at the row of chairs behind him -and staring at the floor, deep in thought.

I sighed, giving freedom to the thoughts that I've had secured in my mind for the past few hours. At first, they were rudely interrupted by this woman, asking me what my name was and if I was working somewhere or not. I managed to talk around the answers, giving her cocky responses just to see her face light up but hell, she didn't give up flirting even when my wedding ring was flashing in front of her dull blue eyes. She said she remembered my face from somewhere, in a magazine or so, and then abruptly shut her mouth up after a few seconds. I flashed her a shit eating grin, wriggling my eye brows. Of course she finally remembered I was Stephen Farrelly's spouse.

Ha.

Enjoying the little time of silence I felt my mind wander to the memories of last night. And I felt myself warming up at the thoughts of his looks, the sounds he made and the way he touched me and made feel. The simple touch of his finger pads made me fly over a mountain. Still, giving my virginity to him was ninety-nine percent unsure. Because it would be a much greater stage of pain to bear when I would have to leave him. Yet, I could barely contain myself around Stephen.

Dean was right. Even I couldn't understand what was happening. Obeying his every wish, bowing my head for his orders; It was like the fighter inside me was dead. It was like, Stephen had seduced him to death. And I was next. And maybe, just maybe my ending wouldn't be death. It will be surrendering. Which is much painful, much pleasure.

After much wasted time the woman finally finished cutting my hair. I pulled away quickly, before her hand lingered on my head for longer than necessary. As I paid her-with a stolen fifty-dollars worth notes from Stephen's wallet-I noticed John's mood has lightened up and he was chuckling under his breath. I frowned in confusion, waiting until we were out of the woman's ear shot.

"What?" I demanded, as soon as we stepped out of the salon.

"What, what?" he cocked an eye brow.

"Why are you laughing at me?" I lightly pushed him- well, managed to budge him an inch or so away from me.

"Oh, that," he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that," I crossed my arms above my chest.

"She," he motioned towards the salon, "was hitting on you so hard. I was laughing at how you seemed oblivious to them."

"Oh, I wasn't oblivious," I smirked, stepping down into the pedestrian. "I was just brushing her off."

"You're as bad as your husband," I narrowed my eyes as he said that, glowering. Oh, yeah? "If I was him I would be hitting on every walking, talking, breathing thing, John." Maybe it was harsh for me to say that but it was the truth. "Anyway, you still need to tell me why were you in a bad mood."

"Randy... Can we please-"

"Nope," I cut him off, holding out my palm at him. "You need to tell me now."

John sighed heavily. He scratched the back of his head, opening his mouth to say something but someone crashed into me from behind, sending me into John's arms. The next second I was alone, and when I came to my senses I saw John holding a man by the collar of his shirt. I hurried to him, grabbing John's huge left bicep and attempting to pull him away.

"Who do you think you ar-"

"John!" I jumped in between them, placing my hands on John's broad chest and pushing him back. "Stop it!"

"I don't care who the fuck you are," the other man wasn't helping at all, trying to get in John's face. "He shouldn't have stood in my fucking way."

"Look here, you-"

"Shut up!" I shoved John back putting as much effort as I can, and turned to face the other man, glaring at him. it was my fault talking about personal things in the middle of the road anyway. "Hey, I'm sorry okay? Now if you please excuse us, we must be on our way." The man just stared at me, his former anger-fuming face fading into something like slight shock. I didn't waste my time to care, but his gaze was making me uneasy. Grabbing a fistful of John's shirt I yanked him behind me, walking away from the still stunned man.

And I just had to look back once more, just to see if he was still standing. I paused a few steps away and looked back, seeing the man walking, but his pacing was slow, very unlike moments ago when he had pushed me with such force. And then everything went still, my eyes zeroing on the spot behind his right ear. Even at this distance, I was able to recognize the tattoo of a black rose, a snake wrapped around it. This possibly couldn't be Hunter Hearst Helmsley. I heard John calling my name a couple of times, even tugging my hand.

And I found myself jogging towards him, trying to catch him before he disappeared through the crowd. I called out his name, and even if there was a huge chance of him not hearing it over the busy crowd. But nonetheless he stilled, his shoulders tensing. I practically ran to him, my heart racing in my chest, the sound of its thudding booming in my ears. Then I stopped right in front of him.

"Hey, there kiddo," his lips curved upwards, an uncomfortable smile appearing on his face. His once bright hazels have now dulled to a dark brown, his sandy blond hair had turned to a dirty blond. I don't know which was worse, his physical changes, or the fact that when I hugged the life out of him, the only reaction I got from him was his hand's light press against my back. it's been seven years since I've last seen him.

"Where have you... What- how are you... Damn," I pulled away, my hands holding his. Thousands of questions flooded into my brain, all of them fighting to jump off the cliff of my tongue. I struggled to hold myself back, trying not to look like a fool in public. "Would you come with me? Have a coffee maybe?"

"Look, kid I-"

"Please, Hunter," I begged. He has never been able to resist when I used that tone. He attempted to look away, but the light pressure I applied to his hands made his eyes wander back into mine.

"Only for ten minutes," and then we were off, me dragging a highly confused John behind me while Hunter lead us to a small café a few blocks away from the salon. John insisted that it would be better if he stayed outside, looking out for me. As much as I disliked having to send John away so he had to be alone in his pretty little head, I wanted to talk with Hunter.

Hunter, as simply said, was my cousin. The only child of my mother's older sister. He was a good six years older than me, and when we were here, he was my protector. Literally. When we were first living in forks before moving to St. Louis Hunter and his dad were our neighbours. We did everything together. He was my other half, and for a long time I've thought he was my soul mate...before he stopped calling when we moved on and later finding out he went for the US Marines. I struggled to hold back the warmth of my cheeks.

"How... How are you?" Were the few words that first left my lips. My eyes ran over the shoulder length dirty blonde hair that framed his face, and neatly trimmed facial hair. He didn't look like he was twenty-four though. He looked way older, his eyes holding a tired, worn out emotion as he shrugged at me. He has changed, a lot. Frowning, I slid my hand across the table, catching his in mine. Maybe it looked like a gesture normally cousins wouldn't share, but we always had a special bond; Which he broke as soon as he wrenched his hand away from mine. My stomach clenched, as he averted his gaze to the floor.

"What happened, Hunter?" My voice was barely audible, and I couldn't stop the sadness that crept into my words. He shrugged again, and unintentionally he stabbed a knife through my chest. I waited until the waiter arrived with our - my - orders, a coffee with extra cream for him and a caramel latte for me. I have a sweet tooth, mind anyone. I noticed the corners of his lips twitch in the slightest, as his hands closed around the plastic cup. Yes, Hunt, I still remember what you like and dislike.

"Please," I pleaded with him, aiming for one last chance. "Say something."

He stared at me for the longest moment, his hazel orbs searching all over my face. At last he sighed softly, taking a sip from the coffee. "You've grown up," his voice was as deep as I could remember, matured though. I restrained my heart back down, before it went flying over the moon. I gave him a nod.

"What, now you're giving me the silent treatment?" he cocked an eye brow, gazing me up and down. Flushing, I glared at him. "Still the kitten I remember, I see."

I wanted to tell him to stop talking about the kitten thing as I was already sick of everyone calling me one but I was afraid he would stop all and leave. That stopped me.

"Who's that guy? I don't remember him as the one you married..."

"You knew?" My brows shot up in surprise.

"Yeah... Despite not getting invitations... Yeah, I knew," he averted his gaze again. I felt a pang of hurt shooting through my chest. "I was angry at you for marrying someone as soon as you got out of the hospital. And not long after your Momma and Dad passed away. But then I thought... It's your life. You have the right to do anything you like..." The sadness and pain behind those words crashed into me like a ton of bricks.

"Hunt... I... You don't know what-"

"Then tell me, Randal... Explain why the fuck you are acting like a gold digging bitch," he snapped suddenly, his fists clenching and his face coloring up, and I could feel the rage radiating off him. "Didn't you have money to survive? Were you a cripple, you couldn't get a job to earn money? Did you have to whore yourself out? Choose the easy way out?"

I drew me hands to myself and hugged them around me. Those were the exact words which underlaid Mrs. McIntyres words yesterday. "Hunter... I-"

"I think I wasted enough of my time here," he said, getting up.

"Hunter, please," I held onto his hand as he passed me, not letting him go. It was a good thing I chose to sit in a dark corner of the café, so we were out of public's eye. "I-I can explain... Do-don't you think I at least deserve one?"

His hard stare pierced through me, as he gritted his teeth in anger. He was debating whether to give me a chance. Something hot crawled down from the corner of my eye, and I turned my face away from him. I didn't want to look weak, or better yet I didn't want him to think that I was a drama queen. How could I not cry, when the only person I've ever trusted in my life turned his back on me. Furiously I brushed the tears away and a moment later I heard him shuffling and sitting down again. I fumbled with the hem of my shirt, refusing to look at him. He must be thinking that I'm a snivelling Snotface.

"Did you know that mom and dad brought money from someone?" All I met was silence. "They did... From Mr. Farrelly. It was either that marriage or jail for me."

"Jail?" He echoed and I could imagine his eye brows shooting up.

"He pulled that card... If I didn't have money to pay him back-and he chose the perfect time to say that-I have to marry his son."

"The point?"

"Is to tame his notorious playboy of a son," I muttered, my face falling. A moment of silence passed.

"Taming the Tycoon, eh?" I looked up at him to see him smiling. Not the happy smile, and certainly not a dark one like Brock's either but Hunter's was somehow gloomy, and sad. I leaned back in the chair, looking out into the streets.

"It's impossible," I whispered. "I was given three months to change him and already half a month is over. If I didn't do it... I'd have to either stay with them or somehow pay the debt I owe."

"Randy..." It's the first time in seven years I heard him calling my name. And it felt damn good. "Didn't you even contacted a lawyer?"

"I don't have money, Hunter. Stephen pays for everything... I need to find a job... A job that gives me midnight shifts. I don't want Stephen to know about it."

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, giving me a frustrated look. "You can't, Randy..."

I looked at him. "Why not?"

"You're just too...soft...to work in shifts like that. And no good jobs are available at that time of the day either..." His jaws twitched for a few seconds, as he looked of thinking about something hard. Then he tsked, looking at me with almost cold-looking eyes. "If I offer you a job at a bar..."

"Hunter..." I gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious?"

"Well," he pushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. "It's my bar... So, yeah... I'm serious." What he really meant was that he didn't want to see me working anywhere else. I could literally feel the aura of over-protectiveness radiating off him. A long sigh of relief escaped from my lips.

"Thank you," I whispered, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. It felt like a huge load of problems was lifted off my chest. I felt at ease. "But how... Wait," I quickly stood up and went over to John, who was inspecting the busy street, leaning against the wall outside the café and asked for his phone. Sending him a sunny smile as he allowed me to use his phone I walked back to Hunter, sitting down. "Tell me the address, and your phone number."

"Why are you using his phone?" Hunter frowned.

"Um... Because I don't have one?"

"Your husband is a multi-billionaire and he hasn't bought you a mobile phone?"

"Maybe... Maybe he doesn't trust me enough to have something like that, Hunt," I tried to keep my voice as normal as it could, but the heaviness of it just gave the hidden disappointment away. I heard Hunter curse under his breath as I handed him the phone. Typing down something, he glanced at me.

"Who's that guy outside anyway? I don't remember him as the one you married..."

"That's... That's John. He's my..." I gulped. "Bodyguard."

Hunter went still, his body going rigid. Then he looked me in the eyes, his gaze as intense as ever. "Doing my job, isn't he?" His chuckles sounded bitter. I winced, averting my gaze. The phone was slid over to my side a few seconds later. "If you can, come to this address this saturday night. I'll show you around the bar and how to do stuff there. I handle everything there, so a helping hand from you will be good. But Randy... Don't come alone. Those streets in downtown are not places you can walk alone freely. Make that guy come with you," he gestured from his eyes at the entrance of the shop.

"Okay," I nodded, giving him a gentle smile. Two birds at one shot. Getting a job has been a big relief, but finding Huter...that was better than everything. But somehow, it felt like what happened today was either going to lead me down the path to sweet destruction, or to bitter heaven.

XXX

Never give up.

That's the only answer I got from John on the way home. How? He wouldn't tell me what the matter was in his mind no matter how hard I tried to get it out of him. I tried everything. Pleading, pouting, being angry... Literally everything but the man just didn't give up. So I did. But who can ever stay mad at John forever? So I gave up on that too. He was more than surprised to hear that the 'bulky blonde bulldozer' was my beloved cousin but I could hear the barely concealed sourness in his voice as he talked about Hunter, just like I heard it from Hunter too when he was talking about John.

I guess they both holds grudges for some unknown reason but I hoped that one day, they would just...cope with each other, for my sake. I wondered if Hunter was acting like this with John, how will he act with Stephen. I shuddered, as I walked out of the glass doors which lead to the pool in the house.

"Stephen?" I called out, my eyes roaming around the pool are and the back-turned resting chairs. Instead of Stephen, Wade's grinning face greeted me. He poke his head out and waved at me. He unintentionally knew how to be hilarious. Shaking my head I walked over to him, noticing that he was only wearing swimming shorts. I sat on the chair next to him, wondering where Stephen was. Rosa said he was out here but there wasn't even a trace of him.

"Relax, he'll be here soon," Wade said, sipping on a glass which contained dark liquid. Was that alcohol? And that's when my eyes caught his tattoos. On his left bicep was a not so especial tribal tattoo while a bunch of red roses were inked on his right bicep. A ribbon was wrapped around the bunch, the words 'Culture, Alienation, Boredom &Despair' marring it. Curiosity filled me. What did it mean for him? "Am I that hot? You aren't even trying to hide that you're checking me out," Wade's grin broadened, which actually made him look like a gorilla.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha. You wish, Wade," I said, grinning. He huffed, and then laughed, deep, attractive chuckles left his lips. Not that I was attracted to him. Hell no. I've already got a deep-voiced, untanned Greek God as my husband with fiery hair who acted like a selfish brat anyway. Smiling absent-mindedly at the thought of Stephen, I looked up when footfalls reached my ears. Speak of the devil.

I bit my lip, my gaze running down his tall frame. Tanned or not, he looked so fucking handsome. I bit my lip harder, when my eyes stopped at his hips, where his swimming shorts were riding so low that I could shape out the end of his V shape. Swallowing thickly, I locked my gaze with his. His green eyes were sparkling in mischief, as he winked boyishly at me. I blushed furiously, dropping my gaze. I still haven't talked to him after last night and... Damn, I still felt the sensations swirling inside me just by looking at Stephen. I looked up again when Stephen's lips landed on my temple.

"You weren't there when I woke up," he stated, planting his butt next to me and wrapping an arm around my waist pulling me against his side. "I was looking for you... Bourne told me you went out."

"To get a hair cut," I muttered, slightly squirming against him. We were giving Mr. Pervert a show. Stephen's gaze focused on my hair, the arm around my waist disappearing and the running through my hair.

"It's short," he muttered, disappointed.

"Isn't that the point of getting a hair cut, though?" I cocked an eye brow at him.

"Smartass," he smacked my back. "What I meant was that it's shorter than it first was... Like when you came here first your hair was a bit longer than this... And I liked it," he grinned, and leaned closer, the hotness of his breath fanning against my ear as he whispered, "so I can pull your hair back and bite down on your throat and suck-"

"Stephen," I pushed him to an arm's length, a violent shiver running down my spine at his words. My abdomen was tightening with longing as my blood was burning in desire. I swallowed non-existent spit in my mouth. "Stop... Stop right there," I pleaded and snatched my hand back when his pecs popped under my palms, flushing a bright red. And Wade was laughing. I gave him a flat look, to which he laughed at harder. "I uh... I'm.. I'm gonna go up to my room and rest a bit. I'm tired," God dammit I just wanted to be out of Stephen's torture chamber.

"Or is it more like, you need to release some stress," Wade clawed the air with his fingers. Glowering I stood up, sticking my chin in the air childishly. Dismissing them, I took a few steps toward the doors.

"Hey, Randy," and I turned around, just a fraction of a second earlier before Stephen speared me into the pool. So I watched as he lost balance and with a little help of my right hand Stephen fell into the pool. I laughed, a drop of tear sliding down from the corner of my eyes. Wiping it away, I let Stephen splash around in the pool still trying to regain his balance and started to head to the doors. Suddenly, air was whooshed out of me and I felt myself being forced into the pool. I had totally forgotten about the devilish Brit. Fuck.

Cold water engulfed me from head to toe, wetting my clothes and my shoes and socks. I quickly surfaced for air, gasping and coughing as water got stuck in my nose. My nose burned, and I couldn't swim well in Nike Hi-Tops. Not that I couldn't swim, I was the inter-house swimming champion at our school mind you. I thrashed around in the water,until a pair of arms encircled me and I let myself saved like a damsel in distress. Chlorine made a stinging sensation in my eyes making me blink countless times until my vision was a bit clear. And all I could see was Stephen's grinning face, and I noticed that he had me pushed into one corner of the pool holding my hips in place and pressing his body against mine. I felt naked.

Well, of course I was next to naked with the thin material of my white t-shirt sticking to my body like a second skin and the shorts I wore - thank the gods - was made out of a much more heavy material than my shirt. I gasped again, when Stephen's lower parts pressed against mine. My arms instinctively went around his shoulders, an attempt to hold myself up without drowning and somehow, Stephen misunderstood it.

"Sexy," he mumbled grinning, and went straight for my throat. Gee, I thought vampires didn't come out during day light.

"Stephen?" I mewled, my voice shaking from the jolts of heat that erupted from the mark he was making in my skin. In response he growled. "Mr. Pervert is watching," Stephen froze and then pulled away to look at my face...and then at the smirking face of Wade. Casting a glare at Wade he shooed him away with his hands, an action I found extremely adorable. Taking advantage of it, I slipped out under of Stephen's reach and pulled myself over the edge of the pool, grimacing when water dripped down from the clothes and the squishy sounds my shoes made. Toeing off the hi-tops I walked over to the chairs, stripping off my shirt. I couldn't go into the house wetting the floors because I'd have hell from Evan. I glanced at the pool again seeing Wade's back facing me as he laughed at something Stephen was saying and apparently, Stephen's eyes kept glancing at me. A chance for me to slip into a towel. I wasn't wearing underwear anyway...

Wrapping the larger towel which was possibly Wade's around my waist I pushed down my shorts and took them off.

"Hey! That's my towel!" Wade's booming voice echoed through the area. Giving him a sweet smile I asked him to use Stephen's one.

"Oh, really?" Stephen asked amused. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Walk around naked," I replied in a low voice, but the words were audible for ears.

"Oh, you would like that very much wouldn't you, Randal?" Stephen's eyes narrowed as Wade guffawed beside him. Flashing him a blinding grin I took the wet clothes and shoes and waved at them before walking inside. It was a good thing that Mr. and Mrs. Farrelly wasn't in the house otherwise they would have had heart attacks,seeing a wet, barely clothed me walking across their luxury house.

"The hell?" Evan muttered as he saw me. Smiling sheepishly, I handed him my wet equipment as he offered a hand at me.

"I'd ruin your tux though," I mused.

"To hell with it," he rolled his eyes. "Now off you go to the room, darling. You're teasing more than one of us here."

For a second I thought about purposefully teasing him, but then I thought that I had teased enough for one day. Hurrying up the stairs I slipped into my room, locking the door, my hand on the towel about to rip tr cloth away so I could-

Gasping, I backed away until my back pressed flat against the door. Oh, God.

"Well, now, I didn't expect this," Brock exclaimed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Flushing, I crossed my arms over my chest which desperately looked like I was trying to cover myself up. Not that I had girly boobs but hell... Brock's steel stare was intense enough to cause me feel fully naked in front of him, even when I was fully clothed. Heart picking up pace in my chest, I looked at him. What the heck was he doing in my room? My breathing became ragged, shaking as Brock stepped closer to me. Why the fuck did I have to lock the door?! And why the fuck was I feeling like this when last night was as normal as ever.

He was wearing his normal dark clothes, sleeveless t-shirt and sweat pants which made him look like a thug. There was a unsual softness in his eyes as he looked at me, and for a few seconds I sayed paralysed to my spot. He stopped when there was only an inch between us and placed his hands beside my head, trapping me in between. My wide eyes didn't leave his eyes, as he leaned a bit closer. The proximity was close to none between us. I placed my hands on his chest lightly applying force to push him back.

His lips curved into a slight, arrogant smirk, as the tip of his nose bumped against mine. "Thank you... For what happened last night and I... And I'm...sorry...about what that woman said."

I gave a nod, my heart booming so loud in my ears that I barely heard what he said. And freezing me completely, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss right at the corner of my lips. If I moved an inch, he would be kissing me full on the lips. And another peck followed, and right before he kissed me again I pushed him away, moving away from the door and backing off, until my back hit the working table behind me. I turned my back to him, my chest weighing down like wet cotton. I heard him unlocking the door and exiting after a moment. However, I couldn't get off the tingling feeling his lips left at the corner of my lips. And it wasn't the good kind of tingling also, not the one like Stephen gave me. There was a certain coldness leaking from it, which went straight to my beating heart and dulled its pace. I placed a hand on my chest, as if to feel it.

Have I made the wrong choice by giving the slightest touch of comfort for Brock last night?

**Please remember to drop a review to show your support for the story :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**[A/N] Thanks so much everyone for reviewing. Nice long comments keep me happy. All of your questions will be answered...in time. *wink***

**Song of the Chapter: All These Things I Hate (Revolves Around Me)-Bullet For My Valentine**

**(15)**

I breathed out a soft sigh, as a pair of strong arms encircled me. Warmness engulfed me, chasing away the coldness. But something felt wrong with them... Too strong... Too bulky... Too tight around me...

"Stephen?" I whispered, my hands trailing up and down the arms. And then a larger body than Stephen's pressed against my back. Low chuckles rumbled through his chest, the vibrations causing a shiver to rush down my spine.

No...

God, no...

"It's not Stephen, little one," he chuckled again, nipping at my shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin.

My eyes snapped open, and my body jolted to a seating position on the bed. I was panting, sweat beads running down my chest and back. Taking deep breaths to calm down, I looked to my left. Stephen wasn't there. Maybe he was in his own room. That thought gave a tightening feeling. When was the last time he had ditched sleeping in my bed? Though I was sweating buckets, a strange coldness surrounded me. And the several sheets that drowned my body in this bed had no effect against it. I shivered again. Slipping out of the bed and noticing it was still three in the morning, I took a quick shower before slipping on a pair of boxer shorts and... One of Stephen's t-shirts that I once wore. Sneaking out of my room, I padded over to Stephen's and slowly, opened the door. Well, tried to.

It was locked. Stephen never kept his door locked. Absent mindedly my hand rose to knock on the door but then again... What will I say? That I had a bad dream and wanted some comfort from him like a little school boy? Or that I came to get some...physical action at three in the morning? Pfft. Yeah, right. Sighing I let my hand fall to my side. There was no sleeping for me now. I was wide awake, though everything happens in this house seems like a dream to me. A surreal dream. Why am I not a victim of Sandman? Finger pads ghosted over the spot Brock so softly kissed.

Where was the crazy, mental Brock I knew? The new one was scaring me more than the old one. I found my feet carrying me down the staircase. As much as my coward of a mind backed down from leaving the bedroom area my feet wouldn't stop. Somehow in someway I was feeling like I was walking toward danger. I just couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was always there at the middle of the night looking at everything that was happening around. Like whenever I come downstairs at night, tonight also I felt eyes on me as soon as I stepped down from the last marble step of the staircase.

Hurrying to the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of orange juice. Chills erupted down my spine as I crossed the living room heading over to the library. I halted, my hand risen to open the door as sounds reached my ears. I gripped the glass in my hand tighter, my breathing shattering when dread settled on the pitch of my stomach. Who was watching TV at three in the morning? I stared at the stair passage that lead to the dungeon room. Should I...

I remember when someone said that I was a danger magnet. And yes, I must be because I was standing at the entrance of the dungeon room. The TV was on, lighting up a few feet surrounding the stand. My hand wandered on the wall blindly searching for a switch to turn the lights on. My throat went dry when a figure moved on the couch. I couldn't see very well but luckily I found the switch in no time and flicked it, the bulbs turning on the next second.

I sighed.

Walking over to the couch,I stared for a few seconds before kneeling. "Stephen..." I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb over soft, pale flesh. "Wake up," he must have fallen asleep watching the TV... Or he must have drunk himself to sleep. My eyes narrowed, running over the empty bottles and glasses. My free hand clenched to a fist, and I gritted my teeth. My only hope was he will not act like a total jerk when he wakes up. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, pressing his face against my hand. I swallowed thickly, retreating my hand and placing both of them on his shoulders, lightly shaking him. He's gonna have back pain for the rest of the day if he kept sleeping like this.

Wrinkling my nose when he yawned, the smell of alcohol invading my senses I continued to shake him until he growled low from the deep of his chest. I paused, pursing my lips. "Wake up, Stephen..."

He mumbled something again, which sounded like cursing but he woke up, peaking from one eye first. Then he screwed his eyes shut, groaning. Excellent. He must be having a wonderful hangover. "You okay?" He just nodded slowly. "You want something to drink? Water maybe?" Again, he nodded. He struggled to get into a sitting position but terribly failed. Sighing softly I wrapped an arm around his shoulders helping him. He shrugged me off first but a second later let me help him. Casting a final glance at him I stepped into the corridor again to go to the kitchen again.

That exact moment, my heart jumped into my throat. Brock was standing at the other end of the corridor. His intent gaze was fixed on me and I felt the intensity of it piercing through my body the whole way across the passage. I stood frozen not knowing to continue up the passage or not. If I went back, Stephen would question what happened and I would have no option but to tell him the truth...including what happened last night with Brock. If I just walked up like nothing would happen, that would be like committing suicide.

I tried to control my irregular breathing and my trembling hands. I balled them to fists hoping they would stop, stop making me look like I'm weak. I dropped my gaze to the ground forcing my legs to move forward. From the corners of my eyes I could see that Brock was still wearing his sleeveless t-shirt and sweatpants like...like he never went to sleep. Like he has been awake the whole night. Like he's the one...

Shit.

I gulped down a whimper that rose up my throat as realization hit me. And I was nearing him. I was sure he could hear the beating of my heart loud and clear. And he suddenly moved causing my skin to jump out of my body. I gasped, the sound echoing through the hallway. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Brock moved away like he was letting me walk past him. And he did. I kept my eyes on the ground keeping as much of distance as I could when I passed him. A small breath of relief sighed out from my lips. He just let me-

I yelped, when my body crashed against the wall face first. Blinding pain shot up from my head, nose and chin. Groaning I stepped back only to be smashed into the wall again this time with Brock pressing against my back, his hands squeezing my hips tightly to hold them in place. I squirmed against him, trying to ignore the constant pain in my head.

"You thought you could get away that easily?" He chuckled darkly, his face burying against the crook of my neck and inhaling deep. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to block him out but the headache wasn't letting me concentrate. "You smell good... You must feel good too," his palms ran over my crotch and then wandered to my thighs, paralyzing me. "Sometimes I forget how young you are... You know...sometimes I forget that this," he jerked his hips forward, and I whimpered out in dread feeling his erection probing my ass, "is a virgin ass."

"B-Brock... Let me go," I wriggled against him, my voice cracking at the end.

"Why? So you can go and get lovey-dovey with my no-good of a brother?" They're both the same. "No, thanks. I'm not letting go of this feeling soon."

I almost died thinking about this feeling he was talking about.

"Just feel so good...to have you writhing under me and I wonder how...how you will feel around my coc-"

"Take your fucking hands off him!"

I slid down the wall as Brock's hands disappeared around me. I couldn't breathe though, I still felt like he was squeezing me in his vice grip. He had never gotten this much harsh to this day. Holding my head as it pounded heavily I whined, falling to a kneeling position on the ground.

"Why must you always ruin my fun, little brother, hmm? I was just having some quality time with my boy here, don't you agree Randal?" I heard him calling but all I could do was breathe out in pain.

"Just get the fuck out of my face," Stephen hissed and his voice was a lot more closer than before. I prayed they wouldn't start a fight right now because I wouldn't be much help keeping these monsters off. "You won't ever touch him again."

"How can you be so sure, huh? Just because you got lucky the last time doesn't mean Lady Luck will be on your side this time too." Brock chuckled again and his voice sounded distant. "You can't stop me from coming back, brother. Face it."

"Fuck off," And then Stephen's arms were around me, pulling me close to him. Distant chuckles reached my ears, and I whimpered again with dread coating my voice. "Shh... It's okay now...I'm here," he soothed, running his fingers through my hair as a gesture for comfort. I whined in pain when his simple action of slightly tugging my hair caused numbing pain inside my head. "I'm... I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing my temple and hooking his arms under my calves and midsection. Lifting me up, he carried me to a bedroom, probably his own. He set me on my feet until he unlocked it and I leaned heavily against him, wincing.

I blinked but jolts of pain ran through my eye sockets more and I dangerously swayed nearly falling if it hadn't been for Stephen's hold on me. He guided me into the room, shutting the door and locking it behind us. I swayed to his bed, letting myself fall front first into the bed. For a long time I stayed like that, unmoving which made the pain dull by the passing second. From the sounds that reached my ears Stephen was obviously cleaning himself up.

"Baby," he sat down on the bed next to me and caressed my exposed cheek. "Drink this," he gestured to his offering palm. I looked at his palm with half-lidded eyes for a few seconds and adjusted my body up just enough to take the pills from his hand and swallow them down my throat. "Here," I took the glass of water from his hand and gulped a few mouthfuls down loving how the cool water flowed down my aching, dry throat. "I'll call Dr. Michaels in a few hours. We're gonna get you checked."

I shook my head ever so lightly. "No..."

"Don't be stubborn, baby... What if-" I covered his mouth with my hand. His voice rang against my skull vibrating pain. Or at least that's how it felt like. I tugged his shirt silently telling him to come to bed. And he did but not without sighing in frustration. Little did he know that I despised hospitals, let alone doctors. Unbeknownst to him I had gone over to the local hospital to meet my personal doctor to take a few scans. I snuggled against his chest, my eyes fluttering close as he kept planting kisses on my head.

The next time my eyes opened, Stephen was lightly caressing my face asking me to wake up. I blinked, my eyes clouded as I tried to focus and my head swimming with a numbing feeling. Damn...the pain killers were too strong.

"Dean wants to talk to you," he said, offering me his phone. Slightly frowning I took the phone nearly dropping it with my clumsiness. Sending Stephen a sheepish smile as he rolled his eyes I put the phone against my ear.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, there kitty cat how are you?" His sarcastic but cheery voice greeted me.

"I think you're talking to the wrong person," I glared at nothing in particular, sliding up the bed and sitting, resting my back against the headboard. Stephen was searching through his closet,shirtless but wearing his black cargo shorts. I absent-mindedly licked my lips, watching the way his back muscles flexed as he moved.

"You there?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm here." I blinked, forcing my eyes to avert to the carpeted floor.

"So as I was asking while you seemed mildly distracted...let's hangout? At the mall or something? I'm bored to death here."

"Um... What about Wade?"

"He's out with Stephen the whole day. I swear these boys have nothing to do in their lives but work," I could imagine Dean motioning with his eyes.

"What about John?" I whispered so Stephen wouldn't overhear us.

"Why aren't you answering what I asked?! If you don't want to hangout with me just tell me! Why do you have to break my heart?! I thought you loved me," Dean dramatically cried from the other end.

"Dean..." I called out when he wailed. "Dean, listen to me," I sighed when he sobbed harder. This man deserved an Oscar. "Dean!" All the noises stopped. "I love you too, okay? Give me a second..."

I looked up to see Stephen frozen at the middle of the room. Flushing, I motioned him to come closer. The frown in his face didn't leave. Did he thought I said that for real? "Dean wants to know if I'd like to hangout with him today... Can I go, Stephen?"

The frown in his face deepened but he slowly gave a stiff nod. "I'm coming," I replied to Dean.

"Randy... Did you just...did you just ask for permission from him to go out?"

I kept my silence.

"Alright, fine..." he breathed, probably running a hand through his hair. "I'll meet you in an hour, yeah?"

"Mhmm..."

"Okay, you can run along now, go get seduced by Farrelly," he chirped, before disconnecting the line. I felt my face heating up, so much that it must be looking like a tomato by now. Placing the phone on the nightstand I searched for Stephen. A suit was layed out on his spinning chair, neatly folded. I knelt on the bed about to get out of it when he came out of the bathroom.

"Stephen..." He didn't even look at me. "Stephen..." I whined, as he continued to ignore me. "Steph..." he froze and then slowly turned to face me.

"You talking to me?"

"No, I was talking to myself."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

What did I want? Now that I had his attention, I didn't know what to say. Instead, I blushed. "Come here," I asked in a soft voice, offering my hand to him. He stayed in his spot for the longest few seconds, debating whether to come but then sagged his shoulders, making his way to me. As soon as he touched my hand, I pulled him and wrapped my arms around his neck as his locked around my waist.

"You mad?"

"I have no reason to be mad," he said in a stern voice. I bit my lip, noticing how his eyes casted to my mouth and his oak leaf colored eyes darken.

"Then why did you ignore me when I talked to you?" I released my lip with a soft pop to which he visibly gulped.

"Because I'm late. I have to be in office within another forty minutes," he furrowed his eye brows.

I pouted and then bumped the tip of my nose against his. "I bet you were mad at me for saying I lo-"

"I told you I'm not," he averted his gaze, his hands tightening around me.

"If you want me to say it to you, I will. Stepgen Farrelly," his eyes snapped to mine, a dangerous sparkle glistening his green orbs. "I... I lo-" he covered my lips with his, molding them into a hard, bruising kiss. Losing my balance I fell onto the bed, with Stephen on top of me. Gasping when his weight landed on me, I unintentionally gave him an opportunity to shove his tongue down my throat.

The sensation his lips gave me was overwhelming, and my arousal was begging in need of contact. I groaned when Stephen bucked his hips, moving one of my legs from under him so I could wrap that leg around his waist. Sparks of heat erupted as our groins crashed against each other, and I pulled away from his lips to take a breath. My lungs screamed in much-needed air, but I dipped my head back to kiss him, wanting to feel his lips warming up my cold ones. His hands slipped under my t-shirt, his nails grazing my skin making goosebumps on my skin. I cursed his name against his lips as he pinched my nipples which were already hardened to small beads.

"Stephen," I gasped when he abandoned my lips and latched onto the base of my. "I have something to tell you."

He paused, looking at me with a face which was twisted in confusion. I let out a laugh. "I stole fifty dollars from your purse yesterday."

A genuine, soft smile curved his lips and it took me sometime to get over how beautiful he looked when he smiled like that. "Oh,really?" he teased.

"Yessssssssss," I hissed out as he rolled his hips expertly against mine, his clothed dick deliciously rubbing against mine.

"And how exactly are you planning to pay that money back to me?" he cocked a perfectly shaped eye brow at me.

"By-" his phone ran loudly, cutting off my reply. He hesitated but reluctantly got out of the bed, answering the phone. I took off my shirt. Well, there goes our moment. Running a hand through my hair I stood up, sauntering over to the window and looking out.

"Sorry about that," Stephen came back after a moment, hugging me from behind and planting a kiss on my shoulder. My hand went behind and rubbed the back of his neck as I craned mine to get a look at his face. "Was Wade...demanding me to be come to office. Have so much work to do before I leave to Greece..."

"You'll be back soon?" I questioned, sadness taking over my features. He kissed my temple, and then my lips.

"As soon as I can. I'll be back for Christmas." I nodded. "You'll be careful, yeah?"

And all the dread from a few hours ago came back at me. I shivered but gave a nod to Stephen. With one comforting squeeze he left me alone, picking his clothes to dress up.

The only question that lingered in my mind was... What was Brock playing at?

XXX

I wrinkled my nose at the unique but nauseating smell the hospitals held. I walked down the familiar corridor with Dean wandering behind me. I had not told him anything, yet, but there was no way hiding why I came here from him too. I just hoped for my sake if the results were bad, Dean would just keep it a secret from Stephen. I could trust him with that.

"Randy you're scaring me... Will you please tell me what's going on?" He jogged to catch up with me.

"I will... Just not right now," I pleaded with my eyes and he reluctantly nodded.

We entered a waiting room where Dr. Stratus' patients waited. My appointment was just five minutes away and I was right in time for it. Giving the nurse at the entrance my name and the time I signed my name down on the paper she offered me, and dragged Dean into the room. I kept standing while Dean sat, and I could see him thinking hard and deep about...possibly about the appointment.

When the previous patient left the nurse called my name. "You want me to come?" Dean asked, standing from his seat.

"Please," I said, realizing how small my voice sounded. And it made the anxiety I was feeling worse. My heart raced in my chest, thundering loudly.

"Randy," Dr. Stratus gave me a sunny smile as I entered her office, however the glow of her smile didn't make my dread any less. "It's nice to see you again. Your results are here. And..." Her smile dimmed but then he composed her face to a happy one again. "Is he someone you can trust?" She asked, referring to Dean.

I hastily nodded wanting to know what the scans displayed.

"You are a healthy young man," she smiled again, giving me an approved nod, "you have a healthy brain, healthy body and a healthy mind. You said you were experiencing headaches from time to time and fall asleep so immediately during day but not at night... Am I right?

I nodded again.

"I asked you to take pain killers if a headache occurred guessing that it must be because of stress... But since I have known you for quite some time and knowing about your coma for six months, I'm glad that you decided to put up with scanning and testing. However..."

Everything went downhill with that single word.

"It seems that constant stress...or damage to your brain is causing depression. This is a warning for just now, Randy. If something highly wears your brain out... I mean if something happens that will cause you to have severe headache and depression... There's a ninety nine percent chance of you going back to a coma, which will possibly last for a few years. Which...might erase your memory temporary...or permanently."


	16. Chapter 16

**Questions:**

**What is the most successful story you've written: **_Taming the Tycoon._

**What is my favorite story that I've written: **_Under the Mistletoe: A Christmas Wish_

**Will Dean keep his promise: **_Yes, he will. Unless something comes up. *winks*_

**Why can't Stephen just take Randy with him to Greece: **_I thought you guys might get it. Going over with Stephen means extra money spending. And Randy doesn't want to spend Steph's money. _

**Will Randy be safe without Stephen: **_Only time will tell._

**Song for the Chapter: **_Hero-Pop Evil_

**(16)**

My hands were shaking. Shaking so hard that it seemed like the whole world was shattering around me. My lips trembled; I couldn't from a word out of my mouth. My thoughts revolved around the information, sinking the inner definition into my soul.

I was fucked.

One endangered moment and I will be gone. My whole fucking memory will be erased. My chest tightened painfully, as a ragged breath was released from my lips. The thought of having to wake up one day with no memory of Stephen at all... Not one memory of how his touch feels like... Not one memory of how love feels like... I would call that, 'Hell.' Hell on earth.

Or maybe...

Maybe it was a good thing. I wasn't going to be with Stephen forever. Having him erased from my head would be better than having to live every day knowing that Stephen would never be mine... But... Fuck. I put my head in my hands.

"Randy..." John's hand was placed on my shoulder, squeezing down gently. I slightly turned my head towards him but kept my eyes down. "What's wrong? You've been silent for hours now."

I didn't have anything to talk about. Not with John, nor did with Dean. It wasn't a matter of who I wanted to talk to; I just didn't want to talk. I was beyond thankful for Dean not uttering a word about the thing to John, and the fact that he didn't question the situation. He let me trail beside him, with John behind both of us. He never once did complain about how silent or secretive I was.

"If you're not feeling well we can go back...right Dean?" He reluctantly added the last part. I noticed how Dean looked away from him, silently nodding. He glanced at me as if to see I was suspecting something between them. And I was. Luckily, a public bathroom was a few feet away from where we were standing.

"Be right back," I said as I walked away from them. Why did I sound like I was whispering? Maybe it was because I felt exhausted. Exhausted to my fucking core that all I wanted was to give up to the darkness that tempted me. And then I remembered what John told.

Never give up.

But what if 'it' was stronger than my weak, pathetic self?

I gave out a long sigh, closing the bathroom door and leaning against it. To my unbelievable luck, the bathroom was empty and surprisingly clean for it being public. Walking over to the sinks I stopped in front of one, bracing myself against it. I looked at the mirror in front of me. My eyes were red even though I didn't cry. I had bags under my eyes, probably because I didn't sleep well last night. My lips were curved down in an involuntary frown. I was a mess. The grips on the rim of the sink were so tight that my knuckles were white and my nails were aching. But I didn't care. All I wanted was to cry, to let tears pour out of my eyes until I was dehydrated, to let screams out until my throat was raw, to hurt myself till I couldn't take pain anymore and blackout.

Water gushed out of the tap as I twisted the knob, some of the drops splashing out of the sink. I stared at it for a few seconds before taking some into my cupped hands and washed my face, keeping my eyes open hoping that the coolness of the water would draw out the burning feeling in my eyes. It subsided for a few seconds but then burned again. It took a second for me to realize that tears were pooling in my eyes. Tears that I was trying to force back into me. Tears that I refused to let fall. Quickly wiping my fce off with a piece of tissue, I took a few deep breaths making sure that the façade I pulled up wouldn't slip down for some time.

Then I slowly opened the door, lingering at the entrance as I watched John and Dean holding hands, with Dean pressing against John's side. They were perfect. Whatever they had going on between them before, I hoped they solved it by now. I didn't know how to approach them. Should I go there and clear my throat or something? I'd ruin their moment. Hugging myself I sighed, leaving them to be as I walked down the stalls, window shopping.

I stopped at a certain gift shop, something catching my attention. Along with a few antiques, there was a small box, made of probably brass. Designs of moon, stars, tree branches were carved around the box and it's lid was open. In the middle of it was a small round stage, spinning with a small brass owl fixed on it. It was beautiful. I couldn't hear if the box was playing a song or not...but it was beautiful. I gasped, when the owl spun a full round and I got a complete look at its face. It had the exact same eyes of Stephen. I placed my palms on the window, leaning closer to look at it. Yup. The exact emerald eyes with hazel sparkles.

"Randy!" John called out, and I hesitantly moved my eyes away from the object. He hurried toward me with Dean hot on his heels. "You gave me a heart attack!"

"Relax, John... He's not a kid," Dean gave him a flat look while I rolled my eyes at both of them. Taking one more glance at the owl, I bit my lip and started to walk away. "Randy... I, um, I called Stephen." I tensed, stopping in my tracks. "He... He's coming to pick you up..."

"Why?" I spun around, looking at Dean.

"You can go home, Randy. You can take some...rest," Dean nervously dropped his gaze but kept glancing at me with the corner of his eye.

"But I don't-"

"Look, it's obvious that you need some space. And by wasting your time with me you'll never get to do it. So it's better that you go back..."

"But you-"

"We can hangout another day, okay?" Dean's hand closed around mine.

I pulled my hand away from his. I felt like a sore loser. I ruined both of Dean and John's time with my shitty problems. If only I had kept a smiley face up they wouldn't have noticed. Something rose up my throat and clogged it, making it hard for me to swallow. I shifted my gaze to the ground, my hands shoving themselves to my pockets. I gave him a nod. "Come on, let's go over to Starbucks. He'll be there."

For about half an hour we waited at Starbucks, sitting at one of the tables that were placed outside the shop. I kept my silence nodding or humming when they attempted a conversation. They soon gave up, realizing that it was pointless. I just couldn't. All I could think about was Stephen. A screech of breaks made me look up. The engine of a red Corvette cut out, Stephen jumping out of the driver's side. I stood up from my seat, waving down at Dean and John before making my way to the car. I had asked John to stay with Dean, because at least then they would have some time to reunite.

"Hey..." Stephen caught my hand as I came to a reaching distance. "You okay?" I gave a nod. "Dean told me you weren't feeling well...and that you won't talk to him..."

I shrugged, slipping my hand out of his. I glanced back at the two who were watching us. "I just want to go home... John is staying with Dean for a while. I already ruined half of the day for Dean. He might as well enjoy the rest. Just don't want him to be alone..."

"Why wouldn't you look at me? What's wrong?" he tugged my chin, frowning.

"I'm just tired, Stephen... I'm sorry if I disturbed your work," I grimaced in guilt.

"That's fine. I was more than finished for the day. And I know it was Dean, not you who's idea was to call me. Not complaining though," he sighed, his hand rubbing the back of my neck gently. "I wish you'd just open up to me, Randy..."

I stepped back from his reach, trying not to offend him as I rounded the car to get into the passenger seat. "Let's just...get out of here."

A moment later he slid back in, looking at me worriedly before revving up the engine again. He waved at Dean and John, before pulling the car into the road. I looked outside the window, unable to bring myself to look at Stephen. What if I spill out the truth? I mean, not that he'd care but he might keep his distance from me, which I do not want to happen. I wanted him, needed him to be with me until the end. Yet at the same time I wanted him to go away and to leave me alone. His free hand rested on my thigh patting the flesh lightly as he drove with the other.

When the car stopped at the house's threshold I got out, letting him go and park it in the garage. I made my way to the garden, where a place for evening tea was made with a swinging bench. I sat down on it, lightly pushing it so it swayed back and forth. Stephen didn't come until sometime later. When he sat next to me, I noticed that he had showered and changed into more comfortable clothes. One of his arms wrapped around mine, pulling me closer. This time I didn't resist and rested my head on his chest, nuzzling my face against his neck. The feeling of his body gave me the slightest comfort but it was more than enough considering how I've felt a few hours ago.

"Love," my breathing stopped. "Tell me what's wrong?" Did he just call me...Love? I locked restraints around my heart, not letting it jump around in joy. I shook my head lightly, and hid my face in his chest, gently biting his flesh through his t-shirt. His arm around me tightened, as if to pull me closer. "Did Dean say something to you?" I shook my head. "Did Brock... hurt you again?" I shook my head again. "Then tell me... Tell me everything and let it out... I hate to see you like this."

"Then you should leave me," I whispered, attempting to move away to which he growled and nearly crushed me with his side hug.

"Randal... Stop fighting me," he grabbed my jaw and turned my face toward his. "Are you hurt?" I stilled at his words. "You are, aren't you?" He confirmed it himself, his eyes roaming all over me to spot damage. "Who touched you? Was it...was it John?"

I cupped his face, making him look at me. If only he knew that the damage was inside me... "I'm fine. I just..." my lips trembled.

"Don't cry," he winced, wiping away the tears I did not know was flowing down my cheeks. I failed to keep them inside. I pursed my lips, a broken breath leaving my nose as I pressed my face against his palm.

"The feeling of waking up one day and not knowing who you are..." God knows what I'll do without him. Blinking away the tears and brushing them away from my face, I leaned closer and kissed him. A mere brush of lips provided satisfaction to me. My hand curled to a fist in his t-shirt, tugging him closer to me.

"What do you mean? ...Your eyes are grey again," he whispered, planting a kiss between my eye brows before covering my lips with his again. I sighed into the kiss, feeling tingles erupt as his fingers trailed down my side over my ribs, and settle on my hip. They rubbed circles there, Stephen's warm tongue wriggling into my mouth tasting myself and then he yanked me against him. A soft moan dragged out of my lips and I pressed against him more, his hand travelling further down and grabbing the back of my thigh, pulling it, a sign that said he wanted me to-

"Ahem," I hastily pulled away, my face warming up as I glanced at Mrs. Farrelly who was staring down at us.

"Mom," Stephen whined in a complaining voice, to which I chuckled under my breath. It was embarrassing though. This is the second time we got caught by his parents. "You couldn't have chosen a better time to interrupt."

"Well, I was intending to talk to Randy from some time. I was free today and he was gone, but I spotted you two coming together so...why not talk now? Besides, I'm sure you two can resume...what you were doing a few seconds ago in your bedroom later." She laughed tinkles, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. Her fiery hair was loose around her face like a curtain, her light blue eyes merry and sparkling. Only now that I considered it; Stephen had his mother's hair with his father's eyes, while Brock was the opposite with Mr. Farrelly's hair and Mrs. Farrelly's eyes.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, looking up at her in confusion. What could Mrs. Farrelly possibly has to talk about with me of all people? She motioned me to follow her and then slowly walked away. Frowning some more I stood up from my seat, casting a glare at Stephen when he gave me a parting pat at my butt.

It was when we were far away from Stephen's hearing distance that Mrs. Farrelly started the conversation. "You know... You're doing a good job." I do? Of what?

"He," she glanced at Stephen who was frowning at us from his spot and smiled. "Has changed a lot since you came. It's obvious that your presence did something to change him that much. He's around home a lot more than he used to. I was surprised when he attended that family dinner with his aunt...which I actually wished he hadn't," she sighed. "She's not a person that many like to be around of if you know what I mean. However...I wanted to thank you for binging him back."

"I didn't do anything," I pursed my lips.

"Then you're a natural," huh? "As much as I love to have Stephen back...it means after two more months...you'd be gone. Possibly. But...something doubts me," she looked away thoughtfully, crossing her arms over her chest. "You two act so...intimate. Have you two...?"

I dropped my eyes to the neatly trimmed ground. "No... We have fooled around but... No."

Her hand touched my cheek making me lock my gaze with hers. "You're a very handsome young man, Randy. I'm afraid of you ruining your future because of...Stephen."

I sighed.

"I'd be very happy if you decide to stay with us," he won't keep me, I wanted to say.

"I'm sorry," instead, I whispered that. She gave a nod, her face falling the tiniest bit. I felt bad but... If Stephen didn't want me to stay, I won't.

"Have you ever thought of what you're going to do when you go?"

"I don't know... Maybe I'll attend some classes, have something before finding a proper job," I didn't dare say to her that I would work at a night bar.

"You can attend the classes you wish now. Why would you wait until you leave here?" She cocked her eye brow.

"I don't want to spend your family money, Mrs. Farrelly. I can't bring myself to do that. I already bit more than I could chew off. A week ago Stephen handed me a credit card for my personal spending but... I gave it back to him. I don't have any reason to waste money," I shrugged lightly. "So I'm good without money. I'll be able to find a job, something little that can pull me off."

"Owen can give you a job," she offered.

"No. That would mean having to see Stephen everyday and...that would be torture," I whispered the last part, hugging myself. It was the reason why I haven't spoken to Stephen about jobs for so long. I knew that he would ask his father to offer me a job and it would be torture... Fucking torment to see Stephen everyday knowing that I'd never be able to live with him.

A soft touch on my face again. "You're falling for him, aren't you?" I didn't deny it. Neither did I confirmed it. I remembered when Dean questioned the same thing with his eyes, judging my every move when I was around Stephen. I guess I had to face the truth.

I loved him.

I loved Stephen Farrelly.

I've already become another one of his victims.

"I'm sorry if I..." I shook my head lightly at Mrs. Farrelly, as she apologized for no reason.

"It's okay. There's nothing to do anymore," I gave her a sad smile, taking her hand gently squeezing it. Then we were silent for a long time, just walking slowly over the large garden. And I almost forgot that Stephen was sitting in the swinging bench. When I looked where he was, he was gone. Or maybe not because the next second I spotted him staring at us through one of the triplet windows in the house like the little creep he is. Soft chuckles rose up my throat.

"He's something," Mrs. Farrelly said, her lips curving to a smile. "It's getting dark...and I think it will rain soon." As if to prove her theory wrong, the sky split a thunder apart. "We should get inside."

"You can go... I'll come a little later," I ushered her towards the house, looking at the sky. "I'm just gonna stay a bit longer."

"You sure?" I nodded. "Okay, then. Just don't get wet and get sick," she warned with a smile.

"I won't," I promised, waving her.

"Oh," she suddenly said, grabbing my elbow just before I turned away. "I almost forgot what I wanted to talk with you about... Randy..."

And by the look she was giving me and by how she was hesitating I sensed that it was not something good.

"Are you a special one?"

What?

Her blue eyes roamed all over my face, searching for something. But I was so fucking clueless about what she was talking about. What did she mean if I was a Special One?

"I see..." she pulled back, her hand dropping to her side. "Well... See you tomorrow, then. Because I'm sure by the way Stephen has been looking at you the whole day we won't be meeting tonight at dinner. Goodnight, Randy."

Flushing, I muttered a good night to her. But still, I couldn't take the question she asked out of my mind. A Special One? I looked at myself. Nothing of mine said that I'm special. I looked up, when a rain drop landed on my cheek. It seemed like there was going to be a storm tonight. When more water drops splashed against me, I hurried to the house, just before rain started. Lightning flashed across my eyes followed by a thunder, so loud that it nearly deafened me. Just as I walked through the front door, I was yanked aside. Gasping, I glared at Stephen who pressed me against the wall.

"What did she say?"

"Are you serious?" I cocked an eye brow. "Are we having this conversation right here behind the opened front door, with you nearly chocking the life out of me?"

He rolled his eyes, but took a step back to give me some space. "Seriously though... What did she want?"

"Honestly... She wanted to know how I was doing. And for another question to which even I didn't know the answer," I scratched the back of my head. "She asked... She asked if I was special..."

Stephen visibly tensed. He knew. He fucking. "What does it mean?" I asked when he took another step back, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me, Stephen. What does it mean?"

"You don't need to know about that...yet," he mumbled, looking away.

"You always say that when I ask something from you. Why can't you just give me a straight answer, Stephen?"

"Because you're not ready, okay?" He growled, grabbing my hips.

"What the-"

Just as his lips connected with mine, I turned my head away causing them to press on my cheeks. He pulled away slowly, a dangerous glint in his emerald eyes. I didn't back down this time, my eyes mirroring his with another kind of glint, heated. I knew his tricks... Trying to lure me away from the subject with his touches...

"Just trust me on this, Randy... I'll tell you when the time comes," he released me, but took my hand, gesturing me to follow him. I wanted to strangle myself. Why do I ever ask things from him? Whatever special meant... I just wished it wasn't something bad.

Just as the doors closed, I expected Stephen to jump on me. Surprisingly, he didn't. Instead, he went straight to the bed, sitting down and unlacing his shoes. I frowned. Is he for real? And then...

The lights went out. My heart jumped to my throat at the sudden light change but thanks to lightning, the room lightened up once in a while. I could still spot Stephen in the dark though. Stripping off my clothes I walked over to the windows and looked through the glass at outside. There seemed harsh wind outside, by the way the few trees in the garden swirled around. Lightning clashed. Involuntarily, my hand went to my throat. Something was not right...

Oh.

"Stephen... Where's my chain?"

Silence reached my ears for a few seconds. I looked at him. Dimly, I saw him taking his wallet from the drawer in the nightstand and searching it. Then he stilled, his hand dragging out my sliver chain with the Aries pendant out. "I have it..." I faintly heard his voice. His fist closed around it.

"Keep it..." And his head snapped to me.

"But-"

"Don't lose it," I said, turning my head to look out the window. I traced a running water drop from inside, feeling how cold the glass was. It must be freezing out there. I flinched, when lightning flashed again. I still couldn't get over that night when I lost my parents. But I was more than surprised at how well I was handling that situation. Too well for my comfort. Tonight was similar to that day. Heavy rain, thundering and lightning, slippery roads, gushing wind...

"You should put something on," his voice was heard a lot more closer than before. I jumped when I heard it, my heart nearly bursting through my chest. "Aren't you cold?"

I looked at him warily. He was keeping his distance away from me, his eyes avoiding me. And he was still fully clothed, except for shoes. He was acting weird. Very unlike Stephen Farrelly I knew. And talking about cold? Since when did he told me to cover myself up when all he wants to do was tear them away? I narrowed my eyes.

"You really should put something on," he said again, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes as if he was afraid that I'd catch him looking at me. Well, I wasn't nude. I was wearing boxers. His pale skin looked ghostly when lightning flashed, but still pretty enough for me to keep looking at him. My eyes ran down his handsome face, over his strong jaws and neck, shoulder blades to his chest, where the best part of him kept covered by his t-shirt. I nearly growled in frustration.

"It's not cold," I started.

"But you should-"

"I don't want to," I stuck my chin in the air, stepping forward to him. He inched away from me. What the heck is going on? He was looking at me like I was a psycho. I flinched again, when the window trembled at the force of the thunder which tore the sky.

"Afraid?" he inched closer again and I noticed a hint of a smile on his lips.

"No," I hugged myself. "I just...feel uncomfortable."

"I would give you a hug...but..."he hesitated, while my heart clenched. "Put on a shirt first." I gritted my teeth.

"Why the hell do I have to put a shirt on? I sleep naked!"

He gulped. And then his eyes ran down from my face... Downwards. Oh. He was unable to control himself. I would call the smirk that stretched my lips, sickening. He gulped again, backing down. I chuckled, when the back of his knees hit the bed and he raised his arms in defense. And my smirk widened. I got rid of the only clothing that clad my body, and took predatory steps toward him making my hips sway in extra effect. He would never be able to resist me.

Stephen growled low in throat as I came into reaching distance and I felt his palms on my hips, applying slight pressure to push me away. But I was buying none of that. Though I still couldn't figure out why he moved away from me, right now I didn't care. All I wanted wad to feel him. I grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away from my body, just enough to press my body against him. Nuzzling my face against the crook of his neck, I chuckled, the last chuckle converted to a moan as I grinded my hips against his. He cursed.

"Randy, you do not wanna do this," he gritted out, unable to stop his hands as they roamed over my ass.

"Oh,I do need this. I need to...release some stress," I breathed into his ear, grinning against his skin. He must be cursing mentally at me. With a swift move of my hand, I pushed him onto the bed. He fell on his back, me quickly getting on top of him as he slid back from me. I tried not to get it into my head, as I slithered with him, making him lay comfortably on the bed before tilting my head down and kissing him.

"You're not going to top me," he growled.

"Who said that?" I wondered, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his shorts, yanking them off his legs. "I just need to...feel you," pushing his t-shirt upwards to expose his upper half to myself, I looked all over at him. He was breathtakingly handsome.

He was already hard, which I obviously expected and my own arousal was screaming for attention, it almost hurting from the heat I was feeling. I was craving Stephen.

"Ah, fuck it," he growled and grabbed the back of my neck,pulling my head to him and slamming his lips against mine. See? I knew he'd give up. Passion overflowed as our bodies rubbed together, my hands feeling every on of his muscles as they made a journey to his cock. I moaned into the kiss, as he sucked and tugged on my bottom lip while my fingers curled around his dick. I pulled away to breath, planting a butterfly kiss on his lips.

"Forgive me if it isn't that good," I whispered, completely pulling away from him and going to my knees.

"What- Oh, fuck!" I swore as I took him in my mouth. Wrapping my lips around the head, sucking hard. He groaned, his hands going to my hair and tugging gently. Cupping his sack I kneaded it, squeezing gently as he gave louder moans, bucking his hips. I chocked when his move slid the whole cock inside my mouth, the tip of it hitting the back of my throat. I held his hips and pulled away, taking a deep breath. A string of saliva slipped out of my mouth, and he muttered that I was beautiful, as I wiped it away. Rubbing his hips in appreciation, I leaned down and licked the tip of his member, tasting his bitter sweet poison then kissed it. Landing kisses down his shaft to the base of it, I stroked it with one hand, and took time caressing his sack with my lips.

I took one ball in my mouth, wriggling my tongue against it. Wetting it with my spit, I did the same thing to the other, my hands gliding up and down his length. Then I took his cock in my mouth again, feeling his cum oozing faster than before which meant he was close to lose it. Bobbing my head and gliding my lips up and down his dick a few seconds more, I pulled away and settled on his thighs again, in an angle where our crotches could crash against each other. His fingers dug into my thighs as I started to grind my hips, our lower parts sliding up against each other and creating blinding friction. I threw my head back and moaned, rolling my hips on his cock in ecstasy. I bit my lip, feeling Stephen's hands leave my thighs and touch my chest, smoothing over my flesh and making my abs ripple. I was burning with desire, both inside and out heated up with passion. Even in the dark his eyes were glinting, sparkling strangely but I didn't care. I loved it. I loved every fucking part of Stephen Farrelly.

My abdomen was tightening by the passing second, and I felt heat collecting in my shaft. I swear I saw stars when Stephen started to push his hips against me, in need of more contact.

"Come here," he growled, opening his arms. I leaned in as they wrapped around me, my breaths coming out ragged as the speed of his moves increased. I moaned against his lips, as I released on his abdomen and stomach. I kept thrusting my crotch against his groin until I felt his seed coating my stomach and chest, the tip of his cock shooting cum all over me. I panted, as I let myself rest on top of his body.

After a few seconds of calming down, he planted a kiss on my head. "You're a naughty little boy."

"You ain't complaining," I grinned at him, kissing him again.

"I ain't," he chuckled, trying to get up. "Let's get you cleaned up. You're a mess," I pushed him down again, pinning my body on his.

"I don't want to. I want to sleep like this," I shoved my face against the crook of his neck, nipping at his skin.

He stayed silent for a moment. "You are such an amazing piece of human being..."

"Hmm..." I purred against his skin before, taking his shirt off and pulling the covers over us. "I know that."

He cocked his eye brow.

"I've been spending too much time with you, Stephen. Your behavior is rubbing on me."

"You know you like it," he gave a teasing grin. "You know what else you like rubbing on you?"

"Shut up and sleep. Or else you won't be seeing me naked for a long time," I warned, resting my head on his chest, and smiled when he settled down comfortably so I can press against him. I looked at his hand on his chest where its fingers felt sticky, and found some of cum coated in them. I touched it, taking a drop and tasting it. Stephen growled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"Not again tonight, Randy," he ran that hand through my hair, and he probably smeared some on my hair too. The feeling of him against me was overwhelming. "You still didn't tell me the reason why you were so glum today."

"Maybe later," I drew patterns on his chest. "It's nothing serious. And he was silent for a long time that I'd have thought he was sleeping but he was not, because his breathing was not even.

"This morning... Were you going to say that you...love me?" his voice was so low, barely audible with the thundering rain outside.

Something clogged my throat making it hard for me to swallow. I slowly nodded.

"Did you really mean what you were going to say?" I screwed my eyes shut, nodding again. Waiting for the rejection, waiting for me to push me off him. But instead, I felt him pull me closer. "Randal Keith Orton-Farrelly... Welcome to Hell."


	17. Chapter 17

**Song of Chapter: **_Cry Me A River-Justin Timberlake_

**(17)**

Soft purring errupted from my throat. Fingers trailed up my ankles, passing my calves and thighs, raining goosebumps on my skin. A sigh dragged out of my lips, and I pressed against the warmness. Those fingers stilled, causing me to open my eyes. I blinked a several times, getting used to the burning that was caused by the sun rays which flowed into the room. The first thing I noted was that... I was awake... And I could remember everything. Another sigh slipped out of my lips.

"Love?" My heart clenched as he called me that. I shifted to get a better look at his face, noticing that I was stark naked with only my front private parts covered by a corner of a sheet. Pulling a little bit of the blanket over me, I looked at him with a lazy smile. I was still sleepy, no matter what time it was.

"Hey," I breathed, my fingers running through his hair and pulling his head down to kiss him. I nibbled on his bottom lip, loving the growl he gave as he draped an arm over my stomach, pulling me against him. I pulled away to breathe, only to be attacked by his pecks. I slapped his hand away when he tried to tickle me, moving away from him. Then I frowned. "You're...dressed. Office?" Wasn't possible, because his outfit was too casual to be worn to office.

"Going out with Wade and Dean," he rested his head on my chest, pinning me with his dead weight when I tried to move away. "Will be back in a few hours."

"Stephen... I'll make you dirty,"I said, wriggling underneath him. "I'm dirty."

"You're not dirty. You're beautiful," he planted a kiss between my pecs which had me flushing. "Exactly how I pictured..." he trailed off, his eyes roaming over me. Why didn't he finish that sentense? I needed to know what he meant. Was this how he wanted me to look like? Covered in his cum, appeared like a slut? I screwed my eyes shut. What am I thinking? He didn't even say that.

"Promise me you're gonna stay away from Brock till I come?" Stephen asked, his head shifting on my chest. He was possibly looking at me. I opened my eyes to stare into his emerald orbs. "Run away when you see him or something..."

I just nodded. Why did he want me away from Brock so much? True, Brock was an exact clone of the devil from what I experienced a day ago but hell... Why did Stephen have to be so worried about me running into Brock? He doesn't care enough about me to protect me. Again, I screwed my eyes shut. Where were all these negative thoughts coming from?

"Stephen..."

"Hmm?"

"I need to shower."

"Oh," he gave me a sheepish smile and moved away so I was free to move on my own. Sliding out of the bed, I grabbed a towel from the closet. "You weren't so comfortable walking around naked when I was there, about two weeks ago," he chuckled.

Two weeks ago I wasn't in love with you.

"Fuck," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Hurrying to the bathroom, I shut myself in. Wait...did I just ignore Stephen? What the fuck was wrong with me?! My insides were stone-y. Like, they were frozen, they were couldn't be taken down. A small voice in the back of my head said maybe it was because last night when I sort-of confessed my love to him... Because he didn't say it back. That was ridiculous. But...wasn't love supposed to be ridiculous?

Sighing in frustration, I stepped under the shower. I didn't know how long I stayed there,my head hanging in shame. Why was I ashamed? For almost giving into Stephen when clearly from the start he made the point that he didn't want to do anything with me except physical impact. I shook my head at myself when my heart clenched again. I didn't know I was this weak. And pathetic.

Hastily washing myself with soap, I spent a few more minutes in the shower before getting out of the glass stall. The spots Stephen marked last night burned just at the thought of him. It was as if to remind me that I was already belonged by him for the rest of my life. As if the mark would stay with me forever. These are the times that I wished I was a girl, so I could have covered it up with some make-up. Even if it only covered the surface. Drying myself I entered the bedroom again, to find no Stephen. He was gone. He was always gone.

Right then and there, I wanted to smack my head against the wall. Instead I hissed at myself and punched the wall. Biting my lip to bit back a pained groan, I rubbed my knuckles. Why did I have to be so stupid? Throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans with one hand-because the other had gone numb, I opened the door with my good hand. Wriggling my fingers, I made my way down the stair case.

Then I froze, every inch of my body going rigid. Brock was standing there at the foot of the staircase, like he was waiting for someone. Possibly me. I swallowed thickly, taking one step backwards. I promised...

"Randy!" My blood ran cold when he called my name, just when I turned my back on him. Gripping the marble rail tightly, I looked at him to see him stepping up the staircase. No, please... "Wait!" I continued to climb up till my feet hit the corridor again. "I said wait!" The next second I was flat against the wall, with Brock pinning my shoulders to the wall. I raised my hands in defense, a small whimper slipping out of my lips as the anger in his eyes subsided. He blinked twice, letting me go.

"I'm sorry," he started, backing away to give me my space. "I just wanted to say sorry...for acting like an idiot that night. I could have seriously hurt you... I can't believe I let myself lose control like that," he muttered the last part more to himself than to me. I bit my lip. My heart was calming down now, taking in his bloodshot icy eyes and tired expression. And I remembered that he never sleeps at night. I looked away. This was _Brock_ we were talking about... Brock who spent God knows how many years in rehab for whatever reason it was.

"You don't believe me," a bitter smile stretched his lips. "That's okay. I've had people who had never believed a thing I said. I'm used to it. But..." his cold eyes washed through me. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

"How?" I asked, just as he turned to go away. "How can you lose control like that?"

He stared at me for a good full minute. Then he looked away, and kept staring at that direction. Something twisted in my guts. I looked at the direction he was staring at, and felt my breathing stop. Stephen was glaring at us, his fists clenched at his sides and body tensed from the bottom of the stairs. From the corner of my eye I saw Brock giving me one look, before climbing down. He paused at the bottom giving a strange look to Stephen, who ignored it. His eyes were on me, not blinking even once as he started up to where I was. The nausea feeling grew inside me as he came closer. Guaranteed, this won't end well.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him. Not even an hour after, you are here with him," he said in a barely audible, dangerous voice which had my hands lightly shaking.

"But he-"

"Are you that much of a pussy to man up and push him away?" He narrowed his eyes, his glare slicing through me. I felt my insides wrench in pain.

"He didn't mean any harm," I whispered, dropping my gaze to my feet.

"I don't care. When I said I want him away from you, I meant it," he hissed.

"Don't act like an ass, Stephen," I hissed back, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him back. "He said he made a mistake and he apologized for it. That's all. It wasn't like he was trying to rape me."

"He _will_ take you away from me by force if you don't do what I say," he growled, his fists clenching and unclenching. "He wants to turn you against me."

"No, Stephen. You're just worried that he will be the one taking my virginity. Not you. That's all you care about. Whatever Brock has done in past... I don't care. He didn't do anything to me. The little things he had done; I already forgave him for them. I know that he has...a problem and I'm not going to hold what happened between us as grudges. I know that you've been happy with whoever your former lover was. Why can't you just... Why can't you be like that with me?"

My head whipped to the side by the force of his slap. I balled my fists to control the trembling o my body, but to no avail. My cheek throbbed as I bit my lip, to force back the lump in my throat.

"Don't you ever compare yourself to him. You're only my responsibility till-"

"To hell with that. Being responsible of me is not owning and forcing me to do what you want, Stephen. You don't care about me. At all. Then let someone else who will take care of me. If I'm just another three month fling to you then let me love whoever I want," I furiously brushed a trail of tears that ran down my cheek.

"I thought you loved me!" Stephen gritted out, grabbing my hips.

"And I thought you _don't _love me," I retorted. "Act like it, Stephen. Don't give me false hopes and ruin my life. You can leave and fuck whoever you want now. I don't care even if it's your former lover. " I slid past him, not even sparing him a glance. He was probably still frozen at his place.

My feet carried me to the library. Finally, a moment of peace. No one was in the library, and there were so many things that I could occupy myself into. Instead, I found myself sliding down a wall beside a huge cupboard, hiding myself away from everyone else. When my butt connected with the floor, I drew my knees to my chest hugging them, pulling the hood over my head to cover my face. My heart was thudding wildly, and aching like hell. I didn't know love hurt this much. Otherwise, I never would have welcame it.

Time passed by seconds, minutes and God knew how many hours. My stomach was rumbling loudly, and I felt numb with hunger and thirst. But I didn't want to go out. If I went out that meant I would have to face people. Which I didn't want at this moment. Specially an encounter with Stephen. And then I remembered that he was out with his friends probably drinking his ass off...

I gasped, screwing my eyes shut as realization dawned to me. A drunk and raged Stephen was something that I've experienced before. I could still feel the anger that was oozing off him when I stormed out. No scratch that, he wasn't angry. He was enraged. With me mentioning his past...

God, how could I have been so stupid and brainless? Why did I pull out his past when blaming all the faults on him? I was no better than Stephen himself. Maybe even lower. It felt like a sword just pierced through my chest. How much my words must have pained him? I always knew that the reason he acted like he was a dick was his past and... Fuck, I didn't even know what happened. And I blamed everything on him. I had no excuse to soothe myself that I had made a major mistake.

I ran a hand through my hair and gripped a handful. And how dare myself blame everything on him when he was just trying to protect me? I wanted to scream, to strangle myself. I hurt him. I hurt the man I was in love with and I could not forgive myself for that. Not ever. Even if he didn't love me back I still have him... Although it's for a limited time. And then _I_ had to be the one to push him away_, I_ had to be the one to pull myself away from him. I should be blaming me. I shouldn't have overreacted to his unresponsive state when I sort-of confessed my feelings to him.

I let out a ragged sigh. There may not be enough time for me to be with him, but there was enough time to make him be with me. I crawled into a ball when the door opened to the library.

"Yeah, I'll check on it," it was Brock, walking into the room engulfed in a coversation with someone on the phone. "I know," he passed me, not even realizing that I was there. His back was turned to me as he crossed the room, going over to the other side where all of the Farrelly's business stuff was. "No... I'll call you back when I find it. Yeah... Okay." Disconnecting the line, he shoved his phone inside his jean pockets. Then he pulled out several huge books and a file, dropping them on the table. And I was watching him like a creep. I shifted slightly to move out of the room without his notice.

The door was still open so if I just crawl over to it there was a chance that Brock wouldn't notice me slipping out. But just as I shifted a fraction, the movement was caught by him like he was Hawk-Eye. He stared at me for the longest minute, his gaze burning through me like a firecracker. I couldn't read the emotion in his face, like always.

"Randal?" he questioned as if I looked like an alien. I settled back down into a crawled ball and dropped my gaze.

"Brocks!" A high pitched, little voice squealed. "Brocks, will you come and play with me?" Evelyn held out a doll at Brock. I tilted my head, watching them.

"Can you give me half an hour?" Brock asked, crouching down so he was in her height. "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"But Brocks..." She pouted. "I want to play now... And Ran-Ran is nowhere to find."

Brock glanced at me, and I dropped my gaze again, unable to meet his eyes. "He went out with Steph this morning. He'll be back in no time." That was the first time in my life since I came here that I heard Brock mentioning Stephen by his name.

"He's never home," I didn't know if she reffered to me or Stephen, but she turned away sadly, to leave the room. Brock caught her hand, cupping her face with the other. "Ten minutes, okay?" She nodded and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he ushered her to leave. Then he turned to me.

I kept my eyes down, and hugged myself tighter. Sorry, Evvy. Not right now. I heard him walking towards me, then the sounds of his footfalls stopped. An offered hand blocked my vision. I stared at it, like it will shoot up and grab my throat, like it did the last time. The next second I found my hand closing around his, letting him pull me up. Maybe I was not paying enough attention because his pull was stronger than I thought and I ended up crashing against his hard chest. His arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me. It took me a few moments to realize that I was pressed against him. Not trying to offend him by my actions, I slowly slid away from his grasp. But not before his hand caught my forearm, turning me to him and pushed the hood off my head before I knew it.

I tried to cover my face but he growled, and I froze in dread. He lowered my hand from my face, and then I felt his finger pads touch my left jaw. I hissed, pulling away. His touch stung, swollen flesh burning under even slight pressure.

"I told you he was no good..."

"He told me _you_ were no good," I said, glancing at him. His jaws twitched, and my heart sped up its beats. Did I make a mistake? He stepped away from me, surprisingly keeping some distance between us. "Brock?"

"What... What did he do to you?" Was he seriously asking this from me?

"That's something private," I muttered. "So it's not of your business... I'm sorry."

"If it involves you that means it's my business too, Randal," my breathing hitched as his possessive voice filled my senses.

"What do you mean?" I whispered, turning to him.

His icy blue eyes darkened to a cobalt blue, delated. His lips twitched, and his fists clenched. His broad chest visibly raised and fell, and I felt like running out of the room, to not look at him ever again. But then he stopped, every one of his movements, and craned his neck to his sides. I jumped slightly when something popped as he straightened his neck, opening his eyes again. And they were back to normal.

"Do me a favor..." He said in an oddly controlled voice. "I'm going out in an hour. Can you...stay with Evelyn?"

Sighing, I nodded. I didn't really expect him to answer that question, in fact, I was expecting him to dodge it. And he did.

"And eat something... You missed breakfast and lunch... Do you even know what time it is now?"

I just looked away. I felt a brush of his fingers behind my ear. It disappeared before I could fully feel it. When I raised my head again, he was gone. So were the files on the table. That was quick. Or I was just too slow and spaced out. I sauntered out of the library, noticing that it was past three in the evening. I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the dining table but looked at it for a second time and dumped it in the bowl again. Nope, there was no appetite, though my stomach was rumbling in hunger.

"Where were you all the time?!" Evan's accusing words were directed at me. He rushed to my side, holding a tray which had a glass of orange juice on it. I shrugged. His brows knotted, as he looked over at me up and down, his eyes lingering on my bruised cheek. But thank God, he went by not asking me questions about it. "Did you know you missed both breakfast and lunch?"

"You're not the only one who said that," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. Evan pursed his lips for a few seconds, giving me a flat look. Then he offered me the glass.

"Drink this. It was for Master Brock but there's plenty more," he lowered his voice, "but you need this more than him. So drink now," he thrusted the glass to my hand. "When I come back I want to see an empty glass."

"Yes, mom," I gave him a small teasing smile.

"Dad," he corrected, hurrying to the kitchen. I sighed at the glass in my hand. Forcing a few gulps down my throat, I winced. Orange juice always managed to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I set the half drank glass on the table, starting over to Evvy's room.

XX

Although I vaguely remembered Stephen saying that he will be home in a few hours, he still had not. As much as I didn't like to admit it, I was worried to death about that man. A few hours until night dawned were spent with Evvy, playing doll house and hide and seek with her, which occasionally helped me to get my mind off of Stephen. But whenever we paused, my mind would wander to him, thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing. I was tempted to call Dean, but I didn't want to be a bother. Evan joined us later, feeding me a plate of fruit and then a bowl of cereal with cold milk, which I had to force down to my nearly empty belly.

A pouting and sad Evan Bourne was not a sight you'd want to see. In the middle of his puppy faces and Evvy's accuses of me not wanting to be a big boy-because I skipped meals-I was feeling like a barrell of food by the end of our session. While Evan left to help Rosa with dinner, I kept myself busy with Evelyn. She fell asleep in my lap after some time and I had a hard time putting her into her bed. She was just so cute, I didn't want to let go of her. A good distraction from everything else.

Sitting at the edge of her bed, I ran my hand through her silky brown hair, pushing some loose strands off her chubby little face. And it hit me suddenly: That she looked awfully a lot like the girl whom I spotted in Brock's phone. Blue eyes, brown hair... Maybe I was just too messed up in the head, but I couldn't help but suspect this little one...might be that girl's daughter... But Evelyn did call Brock by his name. Or more like, 'Brocks.' Absent mindedly, I chuckled.

I managed to pursue Evan to let myself out of dinner, claiming that he fed me too much in the evening. He was mad, but let me go, saying that he will report me to Mrs. Farrelly. Like he will. Pfft.

I changed into a pair of boxers and a large t-shirt, my usual uniform for pre-bed time. I settled down on the bed, pulling my legs up. My eyes fixed upon the room phone, biting my lip. I had _his _number revised in my head, but I wasn't sure if it was correct. But I did revise it from John's phone and _he himself_ had typed his number into it. Picking the receiver up, I dialed the digits. A few seconds later, I heard a ring. And another followed.

By the time the phone rang the fourth ring, I was about to quit. Maybe I had it wrong... Or maybe he... No. No, he wouldn't do such a thing-

"Hello?"

"Hunter?" My voice was small, barely audible.

"Who is... Randy?" His voice was surprised.

"Yeah..." a few seconds passed between us in silence, and it was awkward yet confortable. "Did I...disturb you or something?"

"No, no," he quickly replied, then cleared his throat. "I was just about to go to sleep."

"Oh... The bar's closed today?"

"Yeah, I, uh...decided to take a day off," I could imagine him running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, looking around. "So will you be here tomorrow night?"

I swallowed thickly. "Your offer is still on, right?"

"I'm a man of my word, Randy."

"I know... I just," I sighed. "I'll be there. At eleven."

"Bring that nutjob with you," he warned, yet again. How could I ever make him believe that I wasn't ten years old anymore? I chuckled lightly, shaking my head at what he called John. I won't take him with me, even if it meant walking a half an hour ride in the middle of the night but confessing that to Hunter would be a death wish.

"Did you tell him? Farrelly?"

I frowned at his tight voice, filled with concern. "No... If I tell him he wouldn't let me leave the house for anything. He will lock me in a room."

"He can't do that!"

"He can't. But he's capable of."

"What if... What if he gets to know about this somehow?" I could feel his worry oozing out of the receiver. I rubbed my temples. I never once had thought about that.

"He won't."

"Rand-"

"He won't," I finalized, cutting him off. I didn't call Hunter to argue about Stephen. I didn't need to fill Hunter's head with my personal problems. He offered me a job, and all I could do was thank him. "I...I'm sorry I snapped."

"That's...okay," he drifted off. And sighed.

"Thank you for everything, Hunt," I whispered, wishing that I was near him so I could give him a hug. Even if he didn't like me near him that much like the old times.

"You know that I'd do anything for you," he stated, and I absent mindedly nodded.

"I'm glad I have you. And not because of that you do everything I want Hunter... I'm thankful that you're with me...when my mom and dad aren't," I forced down a large lump in my throat.

"I never thought I'd meet you again," his voice was raspy all of a sudden. My hand around the receiever tightened, and I had to bury my feelings.

"I didn't think that either. But...here you are...and here I am."

He hummed softly.

I listened to his breathing for a moment, before a sound of tires squealing reached my ears. My heart beat sped up, and I started to panic. "Hunt... I'll meet you tomorrow night then... I have to go."

"Alright," I knew he understood what I really meant, by the tone of his voice. "Good night, then..."

"Good night, Hunt..." I waited until he disconnected the line, before placing the receiver back.

I jumped out of the bed, when the door burst open. The dark figure of Stephen lured in the doorway, his hands braced on the wooden frame and his head slightly hung. I couldn't see his expression, but I sensed, and very clearly guessed that he was drunk. He took one step into the room, and almost tripped over his own feet and fell onto the floor if it wasn't for the vase stand beside the door. I slowly walked to him, not sure what to do. My heart was thudding loudly, booming in my ears. I gulped, feeling my guts twist into knots.

"Stephen-"

"What...the fuck are you doing in my room?" He growled, dangerously swaying on his feet. Yup. He was god damn drunk. And I only just noticed that I was indeed in his room, not mine. "Get out," he spat, his eyes glinting in the dark. And not his usual playful glint either, a broody, venemous one.

"I-I just want-ted to say I'm sorry," I stuttered, raising my hands in defense, inching closer to the door, passing him.

"I don't need your fucking apologies... I'm the one who made the fucking mistake of protecting you," he gritted out.

"Stephen..." My hand reached out to touch his face. The next moment the rough, sharp edge of the vase stand dug into my back. I bit my lip hard, to block out a whimper of pain.

"Don't you dare touch me, Randal..." His arms rested on the stand, trapping me between his body and the stand. The sharp smell of alcohol filled my nose with another scent mixed with it, which probably smelt like...expensive perfume. I let my hand fall loosely at my sides, my head hanging in shame. It was all my fault. "My mistake for trying to protect you, for fearing that Brock might hurt you in some way. And you..._you had to fuck it all up_," he grabbed my jaws in one hand, causing me to wince when hard pressure was applied to my bruised cheek.

"You had to compare yourself to that..._that bitch_," I gasped, looking at him. "You just had to spat out that it didn't matter...if I fucked him again. Well guess what, Randal? I didn't. Nor will I _ever_. Him and me...it's over. There's no going back. If I ever hear you talking about him again, let alone you comparing yourself to that low-class son of a bitch, I'll take the matter of tearing you apart to my own hands, because believe me or not Randal... You're not even close to a strand of his hair. He. Is. Filthy."

He breathed hard, and then buried his face against my neck. I just stayed frozen; I didn't know what else to do. All that information... Too much yet not enough... My hands hovered over his back, almost touching him. I wanted to touch him, to feel him but no...he ordered not to touch him. Instead, I pressed my face against his hair, inhaling. Yet again, that sharp scent invaded my senses. He tore his head away from my neck, swaying a few feet back. That dark glint was back in his eyes, their rims red.

"Just get out of here," his voice shook, and I yearned to lock my arms around him and never let go. Breathing out, I inched towards him. I wanted to comfort him, but there was a small voice in the back of my head that said someone else already comforted him, and that I need not to waste my time. "I want to be alone."

The tightening in my chest was painful. More painful than the jolts of stings that were rushing from my probably bruisened back. I forced my feet to walk out of the room, the one last glance I caught being of Stephen on his knees with his hands holding his head. I closed the door shutting him out. Shock hit me in full force.

My body started to tremble, my knees giving out under me. I dropped to a sitting position, my breathing heavy and increasing its pace. I drew my knees to my chest, burying my face between them. Tears were streaming down my face, unstoppable, uncontrollable. I covered my mouth with my palm, to muffle out the sobs that tore out of me. It felt like I lost Stephen. I lost him...over for nothing. I never fully understood how words could hurt someone like that; But now I knew. And I doubted, that I lost Stephen for a few stupidly uttered words.

I wiped the tears on my cheek from the back of my hand, but it didn't matter. New ones replaced the spots. Someone touched my bare thigh. Soft hiccups left my lips as I looked up at Brock with blurred sight. His face was in dark, as the hallway wasn't lit. But I could figure out that he was still in casual clothes. I slapped his hand away. "This is all your fault," I mewled out, wiping my cheek again. "If you hadn't come over to talk to me he'd still be talking to me."

"Randal..."

"Don't call me that, I hate that name!" I shouted, pushing him away when tried to touch me again.

"Shut up and listen to me," he growled, his voice almost menancing. he grabbed my face, peering into my eyes. "Stop crying."

A mewl slipped out of my mouth.

"I said stop crying," his stern voice ordered me, and I found myself attempting to comply to his command, even if my mind screamed not to. I pursed my lips, and my sobbing reduced to small breathy noises. I closed my eyes. And then his presence was gone. I opened my eyes and looked around, not seeing him. Maybe I just hallucinated Brock? Was I going crazy? I sprawled my legs over the floor, resting my back against the door. I didn't hear anything from inside. Maybe Stephen fell asleep. My throat was clogged. I whispered out his name as if calling him would bring him back to me.

Soft sounds of footfalls echoed through the silent corridor. I turned my gaze to the staircase to see Brock coming up, a glass of water in his hand. He crouched between my legs, to which I didn't feel comfortable at all.

"Drink this," he took my hand and wrapped my fingers around the glass, gesturing it towards my lips. As if automatically, I drank the liquid. Cool water flowed down my dry throat, a cool sensation soothing me, but there was something… something that wasn't right. "Good boy," Brock squeezed my other hand gently, the corner of his lips twitching.

An acidy sweet taste lingered in my tongue. Water didn't taste like that… a few seconds later, I felt my body going numb. Literally. I gasped weakly, when he snatched the glass from my hand and placed it away. My head started to swirl, my vision blurring-this time not because of tears-as my ears buzzed. I squirmed, when he picked me up from the floor and threw me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

"What…did you…" My voice sounded drunk, slurry and heavy as I drifted off.

_**I promise to upload the next chapter, as soon as I get 15 reviews-which has more than one sentence-for this chapter. Promise to God.**_


	18. Chapter 18

**BOOM! I kept my promise!**

**Song of the Chapter: **_Tattoo-Tiao Cruz_

**(18)**

My body writhed underneath him, convulsing in pain. A groan dragged out of my lips as my insides twisted, a burning sensation invading my veins. I screamed when sharp teeth sunk down on my shoulder, and nails dug into my hips. Walls were stretching, but it felt like I was being torn apart. Endless tears poured out of my eyes, and I screwed them shut, an attempt which seemed like I made to shut out the world. But his growling noises dominated me, making it hard for me to shut him out.

His arms were too tight around me, and I couldn't breathe. I gasped out, my lungs screaming for air. But his anaconda vice didn't let me space. I choked on empty air, my senses filling with a coppery, rusty smell which awefully smelt like blood. My body was going numb, and I felt the strength seeping out of my body as he ravaged into me. My lips parted in a silent scream, when a point hit me with hard impact. I felt too full and it felt like I was going to explode. The next second, red filled my vision.

My eyes snapped open. My vision was blurred for a few seconds, and I blinked hard to clear the webs. I was facing the wall, lying on my side. A grunt of uncomfort left my lips as I realized that it was my bruised side I was lying on. I moved to lay on my stomach, but something heavy that was wrapped around my waist stopped me. My breathing stopped, as my eyes casted to my waist. An arm was locking me down to the mattress, and it wasn't Stephen's. my breathing hitched, as I looked at my body. I wasn't wearing my t-shirt, and blankets were wrapped around my waist, but I could feel the cloth of my boxers around my thigh.

It had just been a dream. I sighed in relief. And then, my body tensed. I remembered crying, and then Brock was there…. and I faintly remembered him carrying me. my eyes roamed around. This was Brock's room. And I was lying on the bed with him. as if heard of my what I was thinking, his arm tightened around me, and I felt my bare back pressing against his naked chest.

"Brock?" I breathed out, already wriggling against him. blood was running hot in my veins, and I felt horrifyingly warm. I felt his lock loosen, and I tried to get up, only to be pinned down into the soft mattress with him hovering over me. I averted my gaze, when I noticed that he was only wearing his boxers. I felt naked. Specially, under his heated gaze. I wriggled again, biting my lip. "Let me leave."

"Why in a hurry?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, looking at me with his cold light blue eyes. "Afraid that you'll miss Stephen's departure? Don't worry, he leaves in the evening."

"I'm not worried about him…"

Brock let out deep, icy chuckles. "Don't lie."

"Honestly, I wasn't thinking about him. I just… don't want to be here," I knotted my eyebrows in frustration.

"Am I that much disgusting?"

"I didn't say that," I gritted out, glaring at him. "I just don't…trust you." He cocked his head to the other side, as if silently asking what he did. "You fucking drugged me."

His weight crashed down on me, causing the air to woosh out from my lips. "You wouldn't calm down if it wasn't for that."

"You could've chosen words instead of drugs, Brock. How can you do that to another person against his will?" my voice raised as those words slipped out of my mouth, my hands trying to hold his lips away from mine. "I wish you'd just stop acting like a monster even if it's for just one day." His fingers curled around my throat, squeezing. But it wasn't painful, nor did it block my windpipe like it did the last time. Nonetheless, fear gripped my whole body at his action.

"For someone in your age, you do have a smarky mouth on you. I'm surprised that my little brother didn't tame you yet. You already know that he's not the nicest guy to be around," Brock snorted, his eyes moving down to my cheek and then fixing on my waist. Then they raised back upto mine. "But you haven't seen him in his full form yet. All those cheeky smiles and butterfly kisses…they'll be nothing but burnt ash that you will step onto in no time."

"I'm sick and tired of you and Stephen trashing each other up. I'm so fed up, that I've come to the point that neither of you don't have a place in my life." I locked my eyes with Brock's. "Specially you, Brock. You're not even close as Stephen is."

"Because I'm a monster? You say that because I'm not the prince in shining armour you're looking for?" He hissed, his face inches away from mine and I felt the mattress sink under our weight. My heart raced out of control, and dread knotted my guts, a nauseated feeling twsting in my stomach. "That's okay. You know…. Like I've said before, there still are people who don't trust me, who think that I'm a monster who wrecks everyone's lives. Even my own father thinks that. If you thought your words can harm me sadly, you're mistaken. _I _am immune to pain. But…are _you_?"

"Brock," I could only whimper his name out just before he slammed his lips on mine. His fingers dug into my hips, and I screamed out in pain when his nails cut through my bruisened, swollen flesh. He took it as an advantage to shove his tongue down my throat, wriggling the warm flesh inside my mouth. I writhed profusely when his hands slid down from my waist tpo my thighs, and crept inside my boxers. Whining in dread I twisted my body under his, an attmpt to slid out from beneath him but it only caused his hands to slide further and grip my ass cheeks.

He bucked his hips against mine, roughly tugging on my bottom lip. I bit on his upper lip hard, hard enough to draw blood out of his lip. He hissed and moved away, and I got to take a breath before he plunged into my mouth again. I turned my head away just in time, and his lips landed on my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, scratching it. I froze in utter fear, when his hands spread my cheeks apart, and his index finger circled my entrance. My throat was blocked by an invisible bile; I could not scream. I gathered all the strength I could muster up, and shoved him away.

He didn't fall off me, but he was pushed back enough for me to slide from beneath him to land on my butt on the floor. I winced when my back crashed against the tiled floor, but I wriggled away from the bed as far as I could. Panting, I looked up at Brock with wide eyes, as he stayed frozen in his spot on the bed. He grabbed his head, his fingers gripping whatever left of his short-cut blonde hair. I could hear his heavy breathing all the way from here, and my fear increased. What was happening?

Whispers reached my ears. And for a second I thought Brcok was talking to himself. And the next second I realized that he indeed was. He groaned out loud, a loud, screeching, hyena sound. A deadly cold siver rushed down my spine. I had time to run away, to escape from his prison, but I found it hard to stand up and walk away. I was paralysed in fear. Glued to my spot on the floor, I watched as his eyes rolled back into his head. Clasping a hand over my mouth, I tried not to scream. "Brock?" I shakily called out his name, but I got no response except for the wheeze out breathing of his.

I forced my trembling body to get up, bracing myself up against the wall as I did so. "Brock…. Are you alright?" I wanted to slap myself for asking that. Why did I have to, when it clearly showed that he wasn't? and then it dawned to me the fact that his rehab period for God knows how long. Making my feet slowly wander to where the bed was, I pasued when I was a feet away from him. I raised my hand to touch his back but he spun around, knocking my hand off. I gasped, backing away. But he didn't advance n me, just stayed there and stared at me breathing hard and fast, like thick, empty air was chocking him.

There was it again. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils delated and irises darkened to a cobalt blue. They were wide, his lips were parted and he was sweating, and for a moment it crossed my mind that he looked inhuman. "Get the fuck away from me!" his voice cracked, as his blue orbs wildly ran around between his lashes not focusing on anywhere in particular. My heart jumped to my throat when his arm lashed out, creating space between him and me. but what made me freeze for the thousandth of time this morning, was the hint of tears in his eyes.

The big, mighty, monster-ish, Brock looked like a weak, little kid who was crying out to his father after having a nightmare. I balled my fists in anger. I couldn't believe my chest was tightening as I was staring at this man. I shouldn't have pity on him, it's what my head said. He deserved affection, even if he acted like a monster, my heart said. and no sooner, my arms were around him, his face buried in my chest. He quivered violently, almost shoving me to the floor again but I held on to him, muttering incoherent words, trying to soothe him.

Even I didn't even understand what I was whispering. But it seemed to help Brock, as his trembling subsided and his breathing calmed down. I ran my firgers through his sweat dampened hair, letting my finger pads gently press down to his head. What was wrong with him? I was dying to know, but was afraid to find out. I didn't want to stress him out again. He softly nuzzled his face against my chest for a few seconds, before wrapping his big arms around me, pulling me closer. A part of me screamed that I stepped into his territory, and that there was no way out. but another part of me ignored it. Because I was just trying to help him out, and nothing more.

But there was a chance…there was always a chance that he would have thought otherwise.

XX

The coldness surrounding me was addictive. It chilled me to the core, in a good way. It was one way that I used to escape from the reality. And I wondered why I didn't do it before. Maybe my memory was not as good as it used to be. I straightened my back, allowing my face to emerge from the surface of the ice water. I opened my eyes for a few seconds, blinking to make sure that my eye lashes aren't stuck and then slipped under water again. A bunch of ice cubes clinked against my thighs, and I shivered, nudging them away from me.

"Randy..."

I almost puffed out the air that I filled my lungs with. The voice was muffled. Of course, it was supposed to sound like that when I was underwater. I raised my head out, frowning when silence engulfed me. Shaking it off with a shake of my head I breathed in a chest full of air, and slid right back in.

"Randy!"

Freaking hell. The voice sounded louder as if the person was right above me. Just as I was about to surface an arm snaked around my shoulders, pulling me up.

"God dammit, answer me when I call you!" Stephen accused, looking me over and hooking his other hand under my calves, lifting me up from the bathtub. I parted my lips to protest, but nothing came out. Okay... So I probably spent too much time drowning in ice water. "What the heck were you thinking?!" He sat me on the bed, rushing to the closet and taking out a bunch of neatly folded large towels. Then he moved to turn the heater in the AC on, while I wrapped myself up in a blanket not caring if I wet it with water that was still dripping down my body. My toes curled when a wave of warmness hit me, and I dragged my legs up on to the bed, resting my back against the headboard.

"I can't believe you tried to drown yourself!" He rambled on, dropping a towel on my head and rubbing it, nearly pulling my hair off my head. "How immature can you be?! What if I was too late to-"

I raised one of my shaking hands to his face and touched his warm cheek with my finger pads, which immediately stopped his rant. He looked down at me, tossing away the used towel and sitting beside me, holding my hand. "What if I wasn't right on time and you'd..."

I curled my fingers around his palm, parting my lips again. I had to try. "I d-did-didn't... I-I us-sss-sed t-to do this-ss for year-years..."

"You did?" he asked incredulously, his eyes widening.

"Wa-way of-f stress re-relief," I stuttered out, squeezing his hand gently.

"Damn way of stress relief," he muttered, his eyes roaming over me again. His eyes paused on my hair, which probably looked like a crow's nest because of how Stephen dried it off. The corner of his lips twitched to a smile but it turned to a frown when his eyes landed on my cheek. I guessed it was still slightly swollen, the major purpose of having that ice bath being fading out the bruises all over me.

"I'm so-"

"I des-served it-t," I managed out before he could. "D-don't ap-pologize."

He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Still angry-y with m-me?" I asked, toeing his thigh with my toes. He shrugged lightly and stared at me. "W-what?"

"Your lips are blue," he started again. Gee, won't he stop? "Just how long have you been in the tub?"

"Twen-ty minutes or s-something..."

"I could punish you for acting like a ten year old. What the actual fuck were you thinking? It's snowing out there, freezing cold!" He grabbed my feet, pulling them over his lap. He started to rub his palm over my feet trying to warm them up. I squirmed like a warm, struggling to hold back my laughter. His figures locked around my ankles, pinning them down. "You've got to be the most sensitive skinned person I've ever met. Where in your body is a place that doesn't cause a reaction to a touch?" He whispered, his gaze running up my legs and halting where the blanket pooled around my thigh. I could feel my cheeks warming up as I tugged the blanket a little more down, to cover up a bit more.

"I've seen you... You don't have to hide yourself from me," a cheeky smirk spread his lips, as he began to rub upwards from starting from my ankles. I bit my lip, my toes curling again at the tingling sensation he was causing by his touches. "You shouldn't be allowed to have such soft skin..."

I shooed his hands away, my face burning. "S-stop," I demanded, which sounded like a frog's croaking. Sliding out of the bed, struggling to keep the blanket around my waist I walked over to the closet, searching through racks for a clean pair of shorts. I jumped slightly when Stephen's hands gently grabbed my hips, his hot breaths fanning against my neck making the hair on the nape stand out. I shivered, when his fingers trailed the bruise on my hip. His fingers stilled, the next second I was spun around to meet his eyes.

"Explain these scars to me," he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glowered down at me. I shifted my eyes to where his hand was, and my breathing stopped. Purple, angry marks of finger nails glared back at me. "Because I perfectly remember that_ I_ didn't put them on you."

I took deep breaths to control my poor heart, and placed my hand on Stephen's chest, pushing him away. "I know y-you didn't. And I-I don't have to explain myself t-to you. I think you're the one w-who owe me a-an explanation, coming home smelling like alco-hol and-"

"I fucked last night, if that's what you're trying to get out of my mouth," he spat, his jaws twitching in anger. "That doesn't mean I gave you permission to fuck Brock."

"If it ma-makes you feel better... I-I didn't," I dropped my gaze refusing to shed any more tears for him. Why he'd always label me as a whore knowing that the only ever person I'd let me touch that way was Stephen himself, I would never know.

"Don't try to fool me," his low voice filled my ears as he pressed himself against me. "You're not lying?"

"No," but there were things that I wouldn't tell you, because you're better off unknowing them. Just when his lips touched mine, I raised my hand and pressed my index finger on his lips."Please d-don't."

He sighed in frustration, but didn't back away. He hung his head, looking away. "Is it because I was with someone else last night?"

"That… and I need to k-keep my distance from y-you," though I couldn't help but trace his bottom lip with my finger tip. "I don't want t-to get my hopes up."

"But I don't want to," he sort of whined, and my chest tightened. In a matter of seconds my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

"You have to…" I let my lips merely brush against his, and then pulled away when he tried to catch them with his own. Slowly sliding out of his arms trying not to offend him I grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater, reminding myself that if, like Stephen said it was snowing outside, wearing shorts might not be a good idea.

"Be downstairs in thirty minutes," Stephen asked, gesturing towards the door. I nodded and watched him leave the room in reluctance. Was he really going to leave for Greece this soon? He was due to on Monday…not today. Pursing my lips as sadness gripped me; I quickly changed into the fresh clothes and changed the wet sheets on my bed. Fifteen minutes later, I was sauntering down the staircase.

The house was yet again, embracing silence. Inside the house held an unusual darkness although it was still ten in the morning. Even the kitchen was empty, the only working thing in it being the microwave oven, heating up a plate of pasta. Chugging down a can of soda, I quickly ate up an apple, the only food that I've been obsessed with lately. I heard laughter in my ears, and I craned my neck, looking out of the closed kitchen window to see John, Rosa and Evan in the backyard, ankles deep in snow and having a snow ball war.

I chuckled when John sent a huge snow ball right up at Evan, the smaller man landing on the snow fallen ground on his butt at the force of John's throw. I felt bad seeing him on his own when both Rosa and John advanced on him. Then he caught me looking at them through the window, and grinned with a grateful look in his face. Wait… did he think I was going to join up with them? I cocked an eyebrow. And then he had to give me that puppy eyes, pouting his lips. I swear, he didn't act like a twenty-four year old should. And I wasn't saying this for the first time.

I shook my head no, but then Rosa and John caught the sight of me and motioned for me to come there. I shook my head again, and then Rosa was on her knees, her hands clasped like she was begging me. I was unable to stop the grin that spread over my face. Pulling the sleeves of my sweater down to my wrists-I was too lazy to go to my room again and grab a jacket-I opened the backdoor, stepping out into the cold air. And the next second I was laughing my ass off. John had just turned to face me. And I could only see his face. By face I meant his eyes, nose and upper lip only. He wore a knitted hat, which had a ridiculous fluffy ball at the top of his head, not to mention it was of a baby blue, and a scarf that matched it around his neck. The jacket he wore was too puffy, and the man himself was not a small one so he kind of looked like an overgrown gorilla in my opinion. I wondered if he could even walk in those skin tight jeans and knee high boots.

He rolled his eyes, knowing that I was laughing at him but he didn't get angry or mad. I guess Rosa and Evan made impact on him before me. Struggling to control my laughing, I put my hands on my hips. "So, who wants me?" And then it was my turn to roll eyes at the look of their faces. "I mean who want me on their side?" Their expressions relaxed.

"Me! Me!" Evan jumped up and down, waving his hands wildly in the air. "If you were thinking of joining John then erase that thought immediately. That Fatso has Rosa in his side-"

"Hey!" John whined. "This is pure muscle, baby!" He flexed his arm to show his muscles. And we all gave him a flat look.

"You're twice the size as me. If you sided with Fatso, who is the twice of your size which means four of my size, me teaming up with Rosa will be like 'The Tomato vs. The Pumpkin'. So I want-"

"Evan!" I shouted, cutting out his babble. "I wasn't going to side with John, okay?"

"You weren't?" Evan and John both asked at the same time, making Rosa laugh holding her stomach. There were times that I considered Evan and John might be long-lost twins, with John eating up Evan's share of food when they were in their Momma's belly. I shook my head at the crazy thought.

"I'm siding with Rosa," I smirked watching the other two pout as Rosa jumped in victory. Soon, me and Rosa was building up a snow fortress while the other two did the same. My fingers were frozen, but I didn't care. I was having some fun after a long time and I wasn't going to let my stupid fingers ruin the moment. I balled up snow, making a small mountain with them as Rosa built up the security wall. When we were finished, I asked Rosa to be the captain, and we hid behind the wall, waiting for John and Evan to attack first.

"Commander Johnny, I see an enemy fortress not too far away," Evan voiced and he seemed to be the captain. "Should we attack?"

"Are vocals necessary?" I whispered to Rosa, who shook her head.

"Things go right when people do them in silence," she grinned, motioning to the mountain of snowballs. I handed one to her, grabbing another.

"They look weak, captain. I do not think it will take us much time to bring them down. Better make the first move, captain."

"Attaway, Johnny boy," Evan cheered and then he horrifyingly gasped when a snowball hit him. Rosa laughed from beside me, and I stood up, letting out a battle cry and throwing the ball right at John's surprised face. Taking advantage of their vulnerable state I threw more balls at them, me targeting the men and Rosa targeting their snow wall. Their wall crumpled, and both of them were screaming and shouting like crazy. Evan only got to hit one ball, and it went flying right at a tree trunk, completely missing me and Rosa.

"Empty ammo, empty ammo!" Rosa shouted, balling up snow balls. For a full minute we were distracted, balling up snow and almost freezing our butts. I was still chuckling to myself remembering how John looked just before we attacked him. then we crawled to our wall, lying on our stomachs, peering at the fellow fortress. There was nothing but a pile of snow at their side, and the men were nowhere to find. I frowned and looked at Rosa.

"Where did they disappear into? Do you think they ditched us?"

"Nah…" Rosa narrowed her eyes, her brown orbs running over the other side. "Evan is too cunning to ditch like that. We should be ready for anything."

The next second snow was raining down on us, from behind. It wasn't snow balls, just a pile of plain snow. Evan's loud chuckles filled the air, as Rosa shrieked and I gasped. And I guessed that John was up in the tree above us. Because a pile of snow wouldn't have dropped off from the air just like that. I wriggled away, brushing snow off my face. Something itched at the corner of my eye, and I tried to blink but found it couldn't, as it pinched my eyes. Damn. I sat straight on the ground and rubbed my eye, mewling softly.

"Randy?" Evan's worried voice asked, and I heard footfalls approaching me. "What's wrong?"

"Let me see," Rosa insisted, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving my back support. Gee, one might wonder if I'm really eighteen or eight, despite the size of my body.

"Back off, back off," John waved them away from me, crouching down in front of me. "He's mine to deal with. I told you Evan…. That idea was not good."

"Hey!" Evan complained, glaring at John. "It was your freaking idea to climb up that tree, not mine."

John brushed away the rest of the snow on my head, face and body with his scarf and then held my chin. "Let me see… don't struggle." I let him spread my eye lids apart and blowing air into my eye. "Alright now?" I shook my head no and mewled when it itched again.

"What is going on?"

I tensed when I heard Stephen's voice added to the rests. I looked at him with one eye, momentarily forgetting what was happening around me. He was wearing full black, knee length over-coat, turtle neck and denim jeans, with leather boots all ready to go. I didn't know a man could look this handsome in full black.

"I think he stuck a snow flake in his left eye," John explained, backing away as Stephen came closer. He offered his hand, and it took me a moment to realize that he was offering it to me. Feeling my cheeks reddening, I gave my hand to him, avoiding his 'look'. He was looking at me like a dad who was about to scold his child for being childish…. Did that even make sense? He pulled me flush against him, and wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Open your eye," he quietly demanded.

"I can't-"

"Open. Your eye," his voice was even lower. I forced my eye lids apart, blinking in uncomfort. He suddenly blew a whoosh of air, which took me by surprise. I blinked several more times, and realized that the itch in my eye was gone.

"Thank you, superman," I hugged him lightly, nuzzling my face against his neck.

He snorted. "Irish superman…." He mumbled, kissing me. I let him take control. I probably should enjoy it, seeing as it will be more than two weeks after that I'd see him again. I tugged hair on the back of his head, smiling when he growled at me for not letting his tongue in. when he pulled away, I was breathless. I locked my arms around his neck, pressing my forehead against his. "I'm leaving," there was hesitance in his voice.

"It's too early for you to leave," I mumbled, closing my eyes for a brief second as he pecked my cheek.

"Something came up," he muttered, sighing.

"Or are you running away from me again?"

He chuckled bitterly. "Not this time, Randal, not this time."

"Will you be back on Christmas?" I was anticipating to know. His arms tightened around me.

"Probably… I'll try," he gave a light squeeze.

"You have to," I finalized, caressing his cheek and let go when he nodded.

"Bye…" he kissed me again, so hard it was almost painful. And then his arms left me, and when I opened my eyes he was already walking towards the front yard. I watched as he got into the limo, closing the door behind him. Then the car pulled into the driveway. I already felt lonely. And the mansion looked alien without Stephen.

"That's got to be the craziest thing I've ever seen," Rosa said in a dreamy voice. I turned to her, frowning in confusion.

"What was?"

"You and Master Stephen. You two looked so in love," she sighed.

The last time I remembered, love in this situation was a one sided thing.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the name 'Guns & Roses' which I used in this chapter. This is non-profitable work which is only for personal satisfaction and fun. No harm intended._

**Song of the Chapter: **_Trenches-Pop Evil_

**(19)**

My heart was whispering me that something would go wrong. Sooner or later. Stephen was out of the house for two weeks, Brock was nowhere to be found-which meant that I didn't feel his gaze on me when I crossed the living room to the front door. I thought there were security on the gates at night, at least the watchman, but it seemed like no one was in the house except for me. It had been twenty minutes since I had left the mansion, and not even a soul of a ghost was following me.

Things were going awfully right tonight. Pulling the hoodie down some more, I rounded the corner to the street where Hunter's bar was located. Pausing for only a few seconds I looked around. Hunter was right. He was always right. There were bulky, thug-looking men loitering in here and there, bottles in their hand and laughing loud. Swallowing down thickly, I licked my suddenly dried lips. There was no going back, as I'd wasted all this time to come. Since there was only a few blocks till I reached Hunter's bar, things might go right. They had gone right until now so what does a minute more mean? By the time I'd be off there won't be even a stray dog in the streets.

I took quick but cautious steps forward, keeping my head down and shoving my hands into my pockets. Tension grew as I passed block by block, my stomach filling with acid creating a nauseated feeling. My hands balled into fists in my pockets. Every time I passed a small group, they'd stop their drunken chatter and turn to look at me. And every time, my heart would skip a beat. I felt a familiar presence behind me, but I didn't dare turn around. It wasn't as intense as Brock's, and wasn't as heated as Stephen's, and certainly not as powerful as Hunter's. Yet mild, but stronger. And it gave something like an invisible spark to me, a spark that willed my feet to go on without looking back.

And before I knew it, I was standing in front of the wooden swinging doors of Hunter's bar. '**Guns & Roses**' it said. Again my mind clicked on some things. If to open up a bar, Hunter would have had to quit with the marines. But was it possible to resign at a young age like his? Hunter was twenty-five years old, just like Stephen. Except more mature and intelligent. I wondered what he had pushed past me, the swinging doors snacking my chest. Blinking back to reality, I noticed that I was staring up at the name board of the bar. I slid inside the bar, grimacing at the smell of alcohol and thick smoke.

Not that I had anything against drinking, but I liked to stick by the books. That one night when I lost my mind in a party drinking my ass off and waking up next day not remembering anything... It was like a mini-hell on earth experience. And after the coma incident...just the word drinking raises goosebumps on my skin. Yet here I am, about to serve drinks for people to lose their humanity. I stopped at the counter, placing my hands on it and leaning forward. Hunter had his back to me, his dirty blonde shoulder length hair pulled back into a pony tail, sleeves of his dark blue sweater pulled back to his elbows, the muscles of his broad back flexing as he worked. Then he turned around, only noticing me and almost dropping the glasses he was holding.

I chuckled, shaking my head and slightly pulling the hood back so I could clearly see him. He pursed his lips, a gesture which looked like he did it to hide the smile on his lips and placed the glasses down on a shelf that was in-built behind the counter.

"You come in here without so much of a hum, dressing like a ninja, scare the hell out of me and you laugh?" He arched one eyebrow.

I let a grin split my face in half and coat it with innocence. He shook his head, and then parted his lips as if wanting to say something. But his eyes shifted to something behind me, and his lips abruptly closed, his head giving out a stiff nod. Frowning, I turned my head to look behind me, but nothing except a few men drinking met my eyes. I looked back at Hunter to see him watching me, with a blank look in his face.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, looking me up and down. "You just...act a bit weird... Or maybe I'm not just used to you."

"Not used to me?" I followed him to his small office, pulling the hoodie off and tossing it on to a stool nearby. "What does that even mean? The only person ever live in my life that know me more than myself is you, Hunter."

"I was not talking about you..." He faced me, leaning against his work desk and crossing his arms above his chest. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm talking about the 'new' you."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. The 'new' you. This depressed, sad, moping-"

"I'm not moping," I glowered at him, mimicking his action and crossing my arms.

"You said yourself that I know you better than yourself so why are you holding back?" His hazel eyes glistened in a strange way. "Let it out."

"I don't have anything to-"

His hand waved in the air, catching my attention. And then it stopped moving, his fingers glued together, bending back and forth like he was trying to applause by one hand. A simple gesture to shut me up. Then he loosened his arms, stretching them out at me. I got the message. In a matter of seconds, I was locked in his arms. My face buried against his neck, eyes streaming tears, my chest heaving up and down like a roller-coaster in uncontrollable sobs.

"You can't dress me as a fool when I've played with God and death, Randy," Hunter's fingers ran through my hair, rubbing my scalp soothingly. My fingers curled in the fabric of the back of his shirt, clutching handfuls.

I remembered how I had called him three nights ago, telling him that I won't be able to make it that night because something wasn't right. I didn't tell him what a stupid reason was for I wasn't coming. And that stupid reason was...that _I missed Stephen._

So fucking bad.

I wasn't able to sleep on the first night. I had just kept gripping the blankets in my hand and inhaling the faintest of his scent the whole time. Day time was spent on library, sitting on the floor at a corner of the room. Second night, not much luck. I fell asleep during the day and woke up early this morning. Irregular eating and hours in the private gym was an added bonus.

But I knew I had to get used to this. Stephen couldn't be around home twenty-four/seven and I could not complain about it. I wouldn't. One day, I would find myself staring into nothingness, alone. Slowly I pulled away, but I could only move my upper half due to Hunter's arms around me. He gazed into my eyes as if trying to look through me, rough pads of his fingers brushing away the half-dried tears on my cheeks.

"Okay, I'm done," I sniffed. "We can start working now." I attempted to pull back.

Hunter tightened his arms around me, straightening up to his full height-but still shorter than me- had me shrinking back like a nine-year old kid. "You either tell me what's going on or Imma tie you up in a chair and force you to,"  
Hunter growled, his low voice vibrating through his chest.

I sniffed again with moist eyes, letting out a few chuckles. "I didn't know you were into kinky stuff," I touched his big nose, pinching it gently.

"Randy," he growled in warning, shaking my hand away and narrowing his eyes. "I don't have time to waste."

"Then let's not talk about it," I expertly slipped out of his arms, heading towards the door wiping a hand down my face to make sure there were no traces of tears. "I didn't come here to argue about Stephen." My whole body went rigid and I froze. Did I fuck up? A full minute of uncomfortable, uneasy silence passed.

"You should wear your hoodie, Randy. Otherwise some might recognize you even if drunk," I sighed heavily, but not sound enough for him to hear. He completely changed the subject. And I was beyond glad. Glad that he didn't push me, glad that he didn't ask about Stephen. Sure it might not be a huge deal but... I didn't need to fill Hunter's head with unwanted problems. The least thing I wanted was Hunter beating Stephen's ass off. Yes, I knew that he could, and would do it if he wanted.

I didn't realize what was happening until a few seconds later. Hunter was guiding my arm back into the sleeve of the hoodie, one arm done. I let him and watched. He was pulling the zipper half way up, when a strand of his blonde hair fell across his forehead. I fingered it, tucking it behind his ear. Then I noticed his actions had stilled. I looked at him to see his eyes locked on me. He blinked once, and then stepped back giving some space between us.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I shouldn't have been harsh on you. I only meant to-"

"It's fine, Hunt. Really. I know you meant well but... You don't need to worry about me anymore..." He winced, and I knew it hurt but god damn it, it was the truth. "I'm not that little ten-year old boy anymore."

He gave a stiff nod, pursing his lips. I've made him unhappy. I took his hand, squeezing it gently. He averted his gaze, avoiding my eyes and moving away from me some more, inching towards the door. "Let's get you hooked up in this job, so I can take a break," he left the door open for me to come out. Pulling the hood back on my head I bit my lip, following him outside. The radio he had was playing old rock music, which I guessed was a cassette Hunter owned. I faintly remembered the song, a distant memory in my head when we pretended to have a party in our tree house back then we were kids. Well, when I was a kid and he was nearly an adult.

For a bar that was located in an a kind-of isolated street, about twenty people were present with only three being women. They were loud an obnoxious, receiving disapproving looks from some other men that were here, but they didn't seem to care. Even if they were wasted, they seemed like to live a carefree life. Oh, how I wished I could do that. I almost knocked into Hunter's back; but I was able to caught myself a second before that. He swung the small door open to the bar-the actual one with shelves full of various beverages and gestured me to go in first.

"First of all," he started, his voice deep and controlled. "You need to keep your eyes open," I wanted to say that, that's what I've been doing most of the time for the past three days but I bit my tongue back. "If you fall asleep during this five-hour shift you're a goner. I'm not going to let you handle any of the bar fights that will happen, but you _will_ call me if someone troubles you. Got it?"

I gave a nod, leaning against he counter.

"Here," he took a leaflet that was nailed to the wall off and handed it to me. "That thing's got more than two-hundred of the drinks that someone might order. I don't think you'll need it but keep it nonetheless. You'll have to use it once in a while, though most of the people come here for a regular beer. Don't give more than eight shots to a person even if he request more. Always try to talk out of things if they try to pull you into shit. If you can't, then call me."

"Okay," I muttered, roaming my eyes over the weird named shots and drinks the leaflet contained. "Is that all?" I looked at Hunter from under my lashes, not really wanting to meet his gaze. He was still not looking at me though, his eyes running around everywhere but not on me.

"Just...be safe," he sighed, and walked out. I watched him go and shut himself in his office, but not before his hazel orbs met mine in a brief second. Pulling the sleeves up to my elbows, I continued to dry the glasses off, resuming what Hunter had stopped in mid-way. I was surprised that I wasn't feeling sleepy at all. Despite the lack of sleep I've had and looking like a pile of shit, I was feeling good enough. What I had to do was easier than I thought it would be, and I liked how things went well. Though a voice in the back of my head again warned me for no reason.

Four hours later, I was feeling a bit tired. Almost all of the people had left and only a group of four remained. Like that group of girls, these men were loud, shouting curses at their fellows and even threatening to stab them to death. But the others were laughing it off, like those threats meant nothing top them. And they have had enough liquid in them. In another hour, Hunter would close the bar and they'd have to leave. I just hoped they wouldn't cause trouble to him and mess things up. Since the group looked engulfed in their own work, I decided to take a peek on whatever Hunter was doing.

Cracking open his office door, I slipped inside. His back was facing me, as he looked outside of the small window in the room. Dim light was tempting me to shut my eyes and go back to sleep on my spot, but I fought back against it, sauntering over to him. When I was nearing him, he tilted his head to the side, looking at me with the corner of his eye. "Everyone gone?"

"No," I shook my head, leaning against the window frame and looking out at the dark, empty street with him. "A group is still here. I was wondering..." I looked at him. His hazel eyes glinted, with a strange spark taking over them as they focused on me. "What you were doing inside here...alone."

He snorted. "It's not like I've spent the last two years alone, Randy."

My heart clenched. "What... What happened to Papa Clint?" I really regretted asking that, seeing how his eyes darkened in sorrow as he looked away. "Hunter?"

"Cancer took him away... Two years ago." His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat.

"You didn't even tell-"

"I didn't want to," he grimaced, gritting his teeth. "I was having enough shit in my life. I didn't need anyone's pity on me."

"But why did you...how did you quit from marines?" I inched closer to him.

"When I got a call from the hospital that Papa wasn't well, I wanted to go home. I was received a week of leave, but when I finally saw him in that hospital bed... I knew I couldn't just leave to 'defend the nation' letting him die on me. I wanted to quit. And I did. Spent a month in AWOL, but actually my term was six months. Since I had a fair reason, I was able to pay a fine and get away from it..." He sighed. I hugged his side, letting my hands snake around his waist. "I'm not proud of what I've done... but I had to do it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, pressing my face against his shoulder. "If only I was there for you."

"I wanted you there," he confirmed, shrugging out of my hug and turning to face me. His finger tips brushed at my sides, and I leaned forward, like he was pulling me to him with invisible ropes. "But I couldn't... You need to understand why I didn't tell you."

Although I didn't quite understand why he did it, I decided to let it go. I felt that he didn't want me to talk about it so... I dropped it. "Why did you have to leave us in the first place? You could have gone to college, and then get a job... And then..." I dropped my gaze. Hunters fingers pushed the hoodie off my face, so he could gaze into my eyes.

"And then what?" he asked, his thumb trailing the outline of my jaw.

"Nothing," I whispered, suddenly noticing that I our proximity was in the danger zone. I could feel the claws of my buried feelings dig crawl out from their graves, once again trying to envelope me in their dark embraces. I touched his hand, but it didn't stop, trailing down to my bottom lip. "Hunter..."

"Yo, Helmsley!" A drunken, slurry voice pulled us apart, and I felt the need to breathe in deep. Stepping back, I allowed Hunter to walk out of the office, taking a moment before going out again. It was that group I mentioned before, crowding around the counter of the mini-bar, with angry looks etched to their faces. I swallowed, with the scars that were peeking out of their clothes, getting into trouble with them might not be a good idea. "Where's that boy who ran the bar minutes ago, huh?"

Tensing, I walked into the open, stepping from behind Hunter. "You've got a problem with him, Gunner?" Hunter crossed his arms above his chest, looking oh so cool-ly at them. When I tried to walk forward he stepped in front of me, covering me with his body. Still, I was taller than him.

"You've hired such a pussy for the job, Helmsley. He can't even face us by himself," another one snickered. I glared at them all, trying to side step Hunter but he always blocked me out.

"Hunter, let me out!"

"Yeah, _Hunter_, let the bitch out," sneering, Gunner laughed. "He's not doing his job right. He wasn't here when we came to order."

"He was with me. I called him to my office," Hunter covered for me. "You can't order anymore. You can't even stand on your own feet."

"We'll decide that, Helmsley. Give us-"

"I told you no. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not giving more than you need. You can't manipulate me to do what you want like you do with others, Gunner. I'm about to close the shop so pay for what you've taken and get the fuck out."

"If your _boy_ had been here, he wouldn't have rejected. What is it of your concern that if we are drunk or not? You only want money so shut up and give us what you want."

"Is there a problem here?" I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Yeah, there is. But none of _your_ business, chump," Gunner sneered again, looking up and down at John.

"If it involves that kid," he pointed at me. "Then it involves me." So it was John to whom Hunter nodded when I first came in here. "You better back off," John warned, his voice too calm for the group's comfort. I could only see John's upper half, but his hand was moving like it was rubbing something-no pun intended-and Gunner took a step back, almost tripping over one of his minions feet.

"You a cop?" Gunner hissed, his eyes focused on a certain spot.

"Better than a cop," John smirked, leaning against the counter. "You better run."

"I ain't running from you, motherfucker," Gunner snapped, shuffling inside his pocket and taking out some bills, slamming them on the counter. He casted a glare a both Hunter and John, and then his eyes fixed on me. A smirk spread across his lips, showing off his teeth. I shuddered, looking away. I didn't like the threaten that oozed off the smirk, daring me to say or do something. Mocking a salute he left, his lackeys grumbling behind. I didn't breathe until I heard the swinging of the doors in the entrance. Then I turned to John, glaring at him. He noticed it, but shrugged it off like nothing.

If I opened my mouth right now, Hunter would know that I came alone. That meant that I'd have to experience hell on earth.

"I'll be outside," John looked between me and Hunter, parting with a nod.

"Hey!" Hunter called out, before John exited. "Thanks for the help!" John gave another nod, disappearing from our sight. I beamed like the sun has come out. Hunter turned to me, rolling his eyes. "That doesn't mean I like him."

"But Hunter," I whined, tugging the hem of his shirt. "He's a good guy."

"Really, now?" He looked me up and down, and I couldn't help but blush at the strong emotion in his face. "Next time, I'll ask you for recommendation. Now... it's time to give you your payment."

"No," I insisted, grabbing his arm. "You can give it to me on weekends."

"So...does that mean you'll be here tomorrow night?" I smiled at his attempts to hide the hopeful look on his face.

"Yes... If you want me to," I caressed his cheek. One would have thought if was looking that we were a couple. I slightly winced when my heart wrenched.

"I... I do," the corner of his mouth twitched. "But...you'll miss your beauty sleep," his eyes ran over the bags under my eyes.

"I don't care."

"Okay, then," he sighed. "You can leave."

"What about you? When will you leave?"

"In another twenty minutes or so... I just have some things to figure out before I close the bar." Hunter said, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. I nodded, not knowing what to say next.

"Bye..." I slowly waved at him, not really wanting to go to that empty mansion again.

Hunter nodded, looking on as I walked through the swinging doors, stepping into the cool air. The next half an hour was spent on me ranting about how I was not a kid to John, as John rolled his eyes and shrugged whatever I said off. He had actually been on night duty, and has seen me sneaking out of the house and had followed me. I didn't remember puppies doing it, if you know what I mean. When we arrived to the mansion, I stuck my chin out at him in anger when he greeted me a night, and sneaked inside.

My skin jumped off my body when I turned to walk towards the main stairway.

"Where were you?" Brock was immediately on my face, leaving inches between us. His cold gaze washed over me and I shivered, gulping.

"Out," I simply said, placing my hands on his chest and trying to push him back. He didn't even budge, like always.

"Are you cheating on him?" For being so broody, Brock surely owned a dark sense of humor. I gritted my teeth, glaring at him.

"No. I was just out... living my life," I hissed, wriggling to get away from him. "And humor me, Brock, you shouldn't be the one talking about cheating now, could it?"

His eyes darkened, sparkling a dangerous glint, so much unlike what Stephen owned. Then he stepped back, catching my hand in his. "Will you..." his voice trailed off as he silently cursed at himself. He was struggling with something in his mind; I could feel it. I ignored the twisting feeling in my stomach. "Will you...will you stay with me tonight?" His voice was all of a sudden hesitant, quiet and it seemed like...almost shy. He wasn't meeting my eyes.

"I can't..." I started, but then pursed my lips at the...crest-fallen look in his face. Brock was 'many people in one mind' kind of guy.

"Don't make me beg you..."

"Why? Why should I do it?" I questioned, when he diverted his face away from me as I tried to get a good look at his expression. He was silent. His body was tensed, he looked frozen. Then he let my hand fall to my side. Then he shook his head, sighing softly. I looked as he walked away, his shoulders stiffened. I didn't know why I did it. "Brock..." He stopped, his body going rigid. "I'm only going to sleep with you. Just. Sleep. With my clothes on." He looked at me, and gave a slow nod. I walked to him, and then glancing at him once, I walked past him towards the stairway which lead to his room.

In a few seconds I was swept off my feet, Brock carrying me to his room. I tried not to let uncomfort or unease to seep into my mind. I was dreading inside, but in a strange way, I felt like I could trust Brock. Why would he want me to stay with him was another thing, which I'll probably never get an answer to. I took off the hoodie and shoes once we were in his room, and I averted my gaze while he stripped. When I looked back I saw for god's sake that he had left his shorts on so I didn't feel any disturbance.

I slipped under the blankets, Brock immediately pulling me against him and pressing his face to the crook of my neck. His arms surrounded me, locking in a tight embrace like he didn't ever want to let me go. The thought alone made me flinch slightly, but Brock didn't seem to notice it. I looked at him, to see that his breathing has evened, which meant he had already fallen asleep. A smile threatened to stretch my lips, but I forced it back. I may not have any romantic feelings towards him, but I knew that I was starting to like this new side of him. This...normal side. Not his other side when that...inner monster comes out.

I let my eyes close, hoping that I would be able to drift on to a dreamless sleep. I didn't want to wake up screaming for Stephen when I was with Brock.

**SPOILER: _DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW! Next chapter will be of Stephen's POV, but you know what the special thing is? You'll get to know who his former lover is. The one I've been teasing y'all for months. When reviewing, let me know who you think it is. _**


	20. Chapter 20

**Song of the Chapter: **_Let You Down-Three Days Grace_

**(20)**

_Stephen's POV_

"Hey," I heard Dean's voice at the entrance of my bedroom. "You okay?"

My eyes burned. Every bit of the muscles in my body hurt. For no apparent reason. Rubbing my temples, I sighed. "I don't think so."

"You're not," he stated for me. "You didn't sleep last night did you? Like you haven't slept for the past five days we've been here."

"Ambrose," I knew what he was going to pull, what he was trying to say. I wasn't ready to eat that shit at the moment. Not ever. "Shut up."

"I won't be surprised if you knock yourself out tonight, drinking," he let out an unimpressed snort.

"Oh, come on, Ambrose," Barrett's accented voice boomed as he slid into the room, already dressed for the day. He was always a man for business. "A little fun wouldn't do a man any harm."

"'Little fun' is not the idea of whoring around and drinking your ass off," Dean accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Shut up, will you?" I gritted out, running a hand through my hair and gripping a handful.

"You can't accept the truth that-"

"Ambrose," I warned in a growl, my body going rigid as I sensed what he was going to say.

"The reason why you can't sleep is-"

"Dean," I heard Barrett grit out in warning, motioning for Dean to stop right then and there.

"Randy." Ambrose finished, smirking in somewhat victory. The whole room was engulfed in uncomfortable silence mixed with anger, astonishment and amusement.

"Maybe I haven't slept right in a few days. Maybe I'm drinking way more than I used to. Maybe I have been flirting with people more these days than I used to but hell, to the fucking no, Ambrose, I didn't fuck anyone of them," Barrett's hands were on my chest, trying to push me back. Whatever the hell he was muttering in my ear wasn't working, because my fingers were curled on Ambrose's collar, his face inches away from mine. I could only take so much of his smarky smart-ass comments. He might be my friend but I was not going to just bow my head and submit to everything he said. It took all my will power not to punch the shit out of him with my fists. "Keep your fucking nose out of my business. What I do or do not do is not of your fucking business."

The smirk on his face widened, and I almost saw red. "Calm down, pretty boy. It's obvious that you can't accept what I'm saying."

"You know what else I can't accept? That how the fuck you became my friend. You are supposed to be on my side to support me at anytime under any given reason!" I hissed.

"I am, you selfish son of a bitch," he shouted, his smirk disappearing, replaced by a raged scowl. Oh, he was mocking my expression. "I only want what's best for you. And as your fucking friend, I don't want to see you dragging your pathetic self into hell by yourself. What you're doing to Randy... Don't lead him..." I felt my breathing stop as I saw something like hurt flash across Dean's eyes. "Don't give him hopes if you're not going to keep him. Stop destroying his life and let him go. He could have a better life on his own!" His shouted words were echoing in my mind. I felt him rip himself away from me and stride over to the door.

"He said he loved me," I whispered as my chest clenched painfully, like something inside me was sucking the life out of me.

"The decision is in your hands, Stephen," it was one of those rare times that I heard Dean calling me by my first name. I shifted my eyes to his fallen face. "Either lock him in or let him lose his sanity over you."

I closed my eyes, hearing the distant sound of the door of the suit slamming shut. I fell on to the bed again, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. An uncomfortable wrenching feeling twisted inside me. My throat was tight, as if I couldn't speak. A light buzz filled my ears as I let out a shattered breath. Truth hurt. I fucking knew that. But Ambrose always had a way to rub it in my face. Sometimes I just didn't understand whether he really wanted me to come out of the hole or just wanted me to dig deeper into hell.

"Steph..." I had almost forgotten that Barrett was still with me. "You alright?"

I shook my head as something like a hiccup rose up my throat. I buried my face in a pillow and turned my back to him, refusing to open my eyes and look at the reality.

"I know you don't want any more shit right now, but...listen me out will ya?" Not again... Please. "I might not be a good talker, I might not act like a gentleman sometimes, I might do things out of my character occasionally but... Like Dean said..." He sighed. "We only want the best for you. Just think about it... I haven't seen you act like this in the past twenty years of my life. Not even when you were with _him_," I wanted to punch something as Wade mentioned him. "It's surprising how Randy have changed you...despite your horrible drinking habit. I'm going to say something that I've never ever said in my life and I probably won't say it again... Randy is a _keeper_. Losing him to one of the rules in your life is like...rejecting the ASIKIS contract when the owner is begging you to take it," Barrett was right when he said that he wasn't a good talker.

"It's a once in a lifetime thing. You can search through the world for the rest of your life but bloody hell, I don't think you'll ever find someone like Randy other than him himself," Barrett inhaled deeply. "I might act like a pervert around him, just to piss him off... But I only have respect for him. And I respect _the fuck out of him_. I respect that you pull crap after crap on him but he still loves you, I respect that even after everything that has happened to him and he's still holding on by himself, at a young age like that, I respect that he's one of a kind, refusing to use your money even if you forced him and his attempts to stay attached to his own personality rather than following your footsteps into being a stuck-up, rich, fuckable item-"

My eyes snapped open. "I'm not stuck-up, rich-"

"Yes, you are. I know that you're not only just that inside but to others... For others you're just a good fuck and a way to a money machine," Barrett looked at me for a few seconds, and then placed his hand on my shoulder. "You won't ever hear me talk like this again. But Stephen...Randy's worth breaking the one rule you've set up for your life when _he _left you."

I saw Wade leave the room out of the corner of my eye. Another hiccup rose up my throat-

Wait...

That wasn't a hiccup.

Something wet my cheeks. I wiped my face on my pillow. I refused to accept that I was crying. Crying like a little boy who was calling his father out after a nightmare. I shoved my face into the pillow. I refused to show any weakness. This was not who I wanted myself to be. Why would I want to change and break the rule that has kept me stable for the past few years? What would I gain?

Then again... This was Randy. Randy Orton-Farrelly. The boy I was forced to marry. The boy I refused to take out in public and show that he was my spouse without being ashamed. The boy that my heart was trying to burst out of my chest and slither into his own-

I let out a frustrated scream. My head was floating and my mind was on frenzy. I felt dizzy.

Fucking shit.

He was ruining me. Randy fucking Farrelly was corrupting me. And it felt awfully good. To which I yearned to feel more of.

"Cena?" I found myself breathing out to the phone. "Get on a laptop right now and come on Skype. I want to talk to Randy." Before he even reply I disconnected the call, throwing on a t-shirt and hurrying to turn my laptop on. My fingers trembled as I typed in the password, _KittyRandy_... A few of sad-sounding chuckles escaped my lips before I sighed deeply as the laptop logged in to the home screen. Quickly tapping on the Skype icon I waited until I receive the call. My fingers drummed on the table impatiently and it seemed like an hour passed, when in reality it was only five minutes. I dragged a chair behind me and planted my butt in it, my legs bouncing on my toes. It felt like I was going to talk to Randy for the first time in my life. My skin nearly jumped off my body when the music of a Skype call rang, and I almost declined the call accidentally with my shaking hands.

It took a few seconds to clear out the webs for the video to appear, and to settle on...Cena's face. He gave a nod to me, and then looked back, motioning someone with his hand. It seemed like he was at Randy's room, at the working table beside the window and the bed behind him. Cena stood up, letting Randy sit in the chair. I couldn't help but grace my gaze over his bare legs; tan, long and smooth under my touch. He had on that long grey sweater t-shirt he wore at nights with his boxers and the length of that sweater made it look like he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Why was he wearing that at three PM on USA time? I adjusted myself on the chair leaning closer to the camera, as I watched him shooing Cena away with his hands. When the distant sound of a door closing was heard he finally turned to look at the camera. My whole body froze. Cerulean eyes were wide, bright and sparkling with a strange happiness. Even with those slight bags under them, they looked alive and vibrant. Thin, perfect lips curved into the slightest smile, cheeks tinting with the lightest shade of red.

Striking.

"Hi," he breathed out, touching the side of his neck and slowly dragging it down his chest. Was he trying to seduce me? The fuck was I thinking?

"Hi yourself," a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "You look like you just woke up."

"Look who's talking!" He rolled his eyes, his smile widening a bit more. "Your hair has tousled up like a wildfire."

"I know," I pretended. "Don't I look sexy?" His laughter was beautiful.

"I would choose Rhys Wakefield over you at any given moment," his voice was teasing, as he grazed his teeth slowly over his bottom lip. My breathing slowed. If he does that one more time, I'm dead.

"You can have anyone you want... But..." My smirk widened. "Will you love them as much as you do me?"

That smile disappeared, and he dropped his gaze. My chest tightened. Maybe it wasn't the right joke. "Randy?" He wasn't looking at me. "Randy? Please look at me. Look... I'm sorry, okay?"

"My feelings will always be a joke to you," his voice was barely audible. I covered my face with my hands, wanting to strangle myself. My bloody mouth always had to mess everything up.

"Youdon'tknowhowmuchyourfeelingsaffectme," those words slipped out of my mouth. My voice was muffled, but…

"What?" he whispered looking at the camera under his lashes. Thank god. He hadn't heard anything.

"Nothing…. I'm just sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you," I struggled to put every bit of sincere I had in my blood to those words. Randy pursed his lips for a few seconds and then gently nodded. "But…. Would you?" His eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Would you love someone else more than me after you…" I couldn't finish that sentence.

His lips formed a small pout as he thought hard on the answer. My hands were gripping the edge of the table hard, blood rushing to my knuckles and appearing like they were bruised as I waited. "I guess not…. Who could forget their first love?" His eyes were fixed on the screen, but although he was on the other side of the world, it felt as if he was right in front of me and his gaze piercing through me. And I sensed that he was trying to hint me about something. I resisted the urge to hang my head is shame.

"I am your first love?"

Randy tilted his head to the side and blinked. "Yes… I mean… sort of."

"What do you mean 'sort of?'" I mirrored his action and cocked my head. "You loved someone else before me? I vaguely remember you telling me that you weren't even friends with anyone."

"I actually didn't love anyone…." he bit his lip for a moment. And he dropped his eyes again. "But I had…. Still sort of have… a crush on someone." My eyes widened. Did I sense a threat? Who was it?

Was it Dean?

Wade?

John?

…Brock?

I shook my head, staring at him incredulously. "Who is it?" Randy started to bite on his nails. An action that he did whenever he was nervous. "Randy, who is it?"

"Not someone that you know of," he mumbled, stopping biting his nails and fumbling with the hem of his sweater. A relieved sigh escaped from my lips. And then my whole body tensed again. He was a bigger threat if I didn't know him. why did I assume that it was a guy?

"Is it a guy?"

"Are we playing twenty questions again?" he asked, glancing at me. "Because if we are, you'd have to tell me about your first love." He got me there. Little witch. He's not even suitable to be addressed as a wizard. "And… yes, it's a guy." My jaws twitched in frustration. If Randy had no one left in his family, if he had no friends at all, who can he be crushing on? I ran a hand through my hair. "You know, it's okay if you don't want to talk about your first love. I'm not pushing you."

"I did," I started, and couldn't believe that I was forcing a few controlled words out.

"Huh?"

"I did love someone…. Well, at least I thought I was. Turned out that we weren't for each other after all. For the better," I mentally sealed my lips. No more than that. I couldn't stand if another anxiety attack happened in the same day.

"I'm sorry," I looked at him as he whispered. That beautiful face was contorted in an expression of sadness, pity at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I turned my head away, avoiding looking at him. "No need to be sorry. I didn't actually love him so…the after effects weren't that horrible." Swallowing to wet my suddenly dry throat, I looked at the time. They would understand if I was late for some time. Barrett would cover for me.

"You shouldn't have told me that," I heard him say, and from the corner of my eyes I saw his finger tips touching the laptop screen, like he was trying to touch me. My hands curled into fists. He didn't know how much I wanted to be near him, to be able to touch him and kiss- What the heck was wrong with me?

"I wanted to," gritting that out, I sighed, pushing all of the junk in my mind to a shadowed corner. "How did you find out that you were gay?"

His face was surprised. "I'm not."

"What?" My breathing stopped.

"I always went on a theory that I made for myself," Randy's sky blue orbs were sparkling again. "I allowed myself to fall for the person that my heart said. It doesn't have any specific mentions of gender and age so that means… I can fall in love with anyone."

"Even if it's a wretched old man?" I cocked an eyebrow.

His chuckles tinkled through my empty room. "Even if it's a wretched old man." This boy was unbelievable. Leaning against the back rest of the chair, I ran my eyes all over the screen and watched him. Only six more days and I'll be flying out to…home. On Christmas. It felt awkward. It was the first time in four years that I was joining my family for Christmas. And it would be because of Randy. If only he hadn't asked me to come home before Christmas I would have skipped it and the New Year celebration both at the same time. But gone for a month leaving someone like _Randy_ to _Brock_, was like baiting fish to catch a shark using my hand.

I noticed that Randy's hair had grown again. He looked like the day we had our wedding and looked…ten times sexier because he was wearing next to nothing. I licked my lips.

"Stephen?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" His cheeks were reddening as he asked so. What was going on through his head?

"I was wondering what will I do when I finally get my hands on you," his cheeks colored some more. A teasing smile spread on my lips. "Since your hair has grown again…and I haven't had some action in like…a week…" I licked my lips again just to see that nervous look on his face. But seriously, my throat was dry again as images of Randy naked, moaning and writhing underneath me flashed across my mind.

"You haven't…" he trailed off, his voice breathless. I shook my head.

"But… but…" he looked confused again. "Is that why you haven't been sleeping?" He noticed?

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "No, silly," then my smile faded. "I just had a lot of work to do." His expression turned to worry. He parted his lips to say something. "I _will_ get some sleep," I knew what he was going to say. I cut him off. "Don't worry about me. Looking at you now, I think you should be worrying about yourself not getting any sleep. What's your story?" He hesitated. In that instant I knew something was wrong. He fidgeted in the seat, glancing back at what must be the door to the bedroom before turning to me again. Was someone there? "Randy?"

"I… um…" he was trying to avoid the question. Dread settled in the pitch of my stomach. Something in the back of my head told me that I should have taken him with me to here, to Greece. A bell rang. It took me a moment to realize that it was the bedroom phone. Motioning Randy to give me a minute I stood up, walked over to the phone, picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Mr. Farrelly. This is Monica Marshwell from reception," an overly sweet voice blurted out. "There's a…Mr. Curtis here to meet you."

"Give him a spare key and ask him to come straight into my suit," I replied, and hung up the receiver. My assistant could not have chosen a better time. He could wait in the living room, until I finish talking with Randy. When I sat back at the table, Randy was not on his seat. Instead, he was on the bed, on all fours, his barely covered ass meeting the camera. My mouth hung open, and I felt my southern region stirring. He looked like he was searching for something, but his actions made his ass sway in the air, which was pure eye candy. "I didn't know you wanted me that much."

He jumped, startled, and almost fell off the bed. Hastily turning to me and sliding off the bed, he took the seat in front of the laptop again. He was blushing so hard, that my fingers itched to pinch his cheeks at his adorableness. "Shut up," he growled meekly. This was why my password was awesome. I laughed lightly, my heart swelling with affection at him. he surely was one of a kind. And he was still tugging the hem of his shirt to cover his legs even if I couldn't see them or his butt.

"I thought you were staying with Drew," he was desperate to change the subject. Giving him a knowing look, I let what he asked sink into my mind. Then I frowned.

"I didn't want to. Well… I did want to stay there but after getting to know that Aunt Matilda was there too… I kinda gained an interest in this hotel where I'm staying. It's handy in here."

"Stephen…." He sighed, the redness of his cheeks fading. "You shouldn't be holding grudges against your relatives because of me." but I wanted to. That woman had no right to talk trash to something…someone that I owned. Someone that was _my_ property. I simply shrugged.

"It's not-"

"Good morning, Mr. Farrelly!" John's voice chirped, as he strode into the bedroom, a bunch o files in his hands. He was a good-hearted, funny, loyal partner but sometimes, his actions irritated me. I cocked an eyebrow at him. he froze, his eyes moving from my face to the laptop back and forth for a few seconds before he motioned for Randy to give him a second. I heard Randy breathe out chuckles. I couldn't blame him; John was a natural comedian. "I'm sorry I had to disturb you this early-well, not that early but early for you anyway-"

"Curtis!" I interrupted his babbling, rubbing my temples tiredly. "What the heck do you want from me?"

"Nothing..." He looked awkward. "Actually, it isn't me who wants something. It's-"

"Me," my breath hitched, as _he_ strutted into the room behind John. The beating of my heart stopped, and my chest tightened painfully, completely unlike the way it would react around Randy.

Randy…

"I'll call you later, Love," I quickly muttered before I clicked the line dead. The last thing I saw was Randy's startled face. I mentally apologized to him, and hoped that he hadn't seen the person who was in the room with me and Curtis.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" I hissed, standing up from the chair and standing in front of him. "Why the heck did you bring him here without my permission?" My glare was shifted to John, who looked like he was about to shit bricks on the spot.

"I-he-I thought he-"

"Relax," he chuckled in his sugary sweet voice, and I wondered… how the hell had I fallen for this guy? Was I drunk the entire relationship? My guts twisted. "I only wanted to give you a heads up. Johnny, would you please give us a few minutes."

"You can leave with him," I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dropped to my arms, clearly ogling at them. I forced back a disgusted shudder. "I don't need you here."

"But don't you wanna know what I've got to say?"

"No," I flat out denied.

"But seemed like you've got a few minutes to spare for me," his eyes focused on the laptop. I slapped it shut. "He sure is a thing to look at, now, isn't he?" he asked, a smirk twisting his lips. And it wasn't a happy one. "How did you find him anyway?"

"Is that why you're here? To badmouth Randy? Like everyone else?"

"Badmouth?" he mocked a shocked look. "I thought you had your parents' blessings for your wedding. Don't blame them. Maybe they can't accept the fact that a _teenager_ is _your _husband. More surprising that he has no one in this world but himself. What do I sense? Gold digging?"

I grabbed his forearm, tightening my hold purposefully. He tried to cover up the wince, but was half successful at it. "He's not you. That's one of the first reasons I married him. So you can keep all those facts about yourself to yourself. I already know all of them. Don't even talk about him with your filthy mouth."

"You didn't think my mouth was filthy when it was sucking your dick," he snarled, wrenching his hand away from my grasp. Then he cleared his throat, fixing his suit. "Now, I don't have time to waste. I just came to give you a heads up about today's meeting. The time of the meeting has shifted to this evening, starting from four. Mr. Ted DiBiase apologizes for the time shift, as he has to attend some other work this morning."

"And why are you telling me this? First of all, why are you even on Greece and representing DiBiase?" I narrowed my eyes to slits, the glower in my eyes increasing as seconds passed by.

"You still care?" He batted his eye lashes.

"No," I hissed. "But if you're getting involved in my business, I need to know."

"Well," he smirked. "I, Cody Runnels-Rhodes, is Ted DiBiase's personal secretary in ASIKIS. Which means, I'll be with him throughout this whole process of the contract in the next two months. You'll have to deal with it." Then he turned to leave, but he paused with his back to me. "Did I forget something?" He wondered out loud. "Oh, yes," he spun around, jutting out his hand towards me. Something glinted. "I'm his fiancé."

"Always hanging in the tallest branches, eh, Runnels?" I snorted in disgust.

He snorted back. "Found a good spot to swim, and I jumped. Oh. Yes, another thing," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I forget everything these days. I was meaning to ask…. You called him Love…. Something that you've never called me whenever we were together. Are you really in love with him?"

"It's none of your fucking business," I spat, balling my hands to fists.

"I know that your father forced you to marry that…immature boy, Farrelly," Cody's smirk was unbearable.

"Always the better actor," I sneered, looking him up and down. "I'm waiting for the day when you'll bring ASIKIS down with your bare hands."

He laughed it off like it was nothing, and walked out. "I just wanted to see if you're still that emotional person who bared his soul out to everyone. I guess now that you're a bit…mature, you know better than to. Does he know that you love him?"

"I told you it was-"

"Poor Stephen," he cooed, as he made his way into the living room. "Always loving everyone but getting tossed away like trash."

It took all my will power not to beat Runnels to a bloody mush. I breathed heavily as he walked out the door, the storm he has created still swirling in my mind. Son of a bitch. I swear if he even bat an eye at Randy I would fucking skin him alive and feed him to stray dogs.

And then I felt like I dug myself a hole to hell.

I never denied nor accepted that I loved Randy.

**I think I deserve a review? Please, I want to hear what you guys think about this.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Song of the Chapter:** _So Good-B.O.B_

**(21)**

I wandered into the bathroom, a pair of shorts clenched in my hands. I looked at the mirror, where a reflection of a frustrated young boy stared back at me. I may be tan, but I didn't have his caramel skin. My eyes may be blue but not as light and vivid as his baby blues. I sighed. I was nothing compared to him. That guy, who appeared out of nowhere seconds before Stephen disconnected the video call. I didn't know why I even compared myself to him, since I haven't even met him in person but something...something that vibed off him hit me hard. Through the laptop into my heart like a shot of electricity.

Danger...

And that guy kept appearing in my dreams for the past two nights like hell. And they all were somehow revolved around Stephen. And I didn't like it.

I jumped violently when something fluffly curled around my left calf. A soft purring sound filled the air, someone rubbing their head against my calf sending chills through my body. "Sheamo!" I bent and picked the ginger kitten up into my arms, grinning down at him. I carried him here two nights ago, both of us with John covered in snow. The perfect coincidences were that he and Stephen's hair was ginger, with green eyes. Kitten's eyes were a lot lighter, black irises wide, revealing only the slightest of the green. It purred. It was so small that it could curl into a ball and sleep in my joined palms. "There you are," I scratched its neck. "Are you still angry at me? If Stephen saw you in our bed he would've scolded both you and me. That's why I hid you under the bed!"

It gave me a flat look. I laughed out loud. "We'll make him forgive us when he finally catches us together." Sheamus yawned, like he didn't think that whatever I was planning, wasn't going to work. The exact persona of Stephen. "You naughty cat."

"Dirty little secret, eh?" I almost dropped the kitten. Brock's large frame leaning against the bathroom door made my breath hitch. It took me a few seconds to calm down and fully take in the expression in his face. He was smirking. But not that dark, cruel smirk he had on a number of occasions before. A new, almost awkward one. I set Sheamus on the floor, but it kept rubbing off against my legs, without leaving the room. Honestly, I was glad of this little presence between me and Brock.

"I couldn't leave him outside when it was cold and snowing... He was alone."

I dropped my gaze to the floor when Brock straightened up and took two long steps towards me and stopped. Still, even after I was a bit comfortable around him, he was intimidating me. His finger hooked under my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to look at him. He stared at me for a few seconds, before dropping his hand and placing it above my heart on my chest.

"One day, this heart of yours is going to get you in big trouble," he said, tilting his head. I placed my hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, when his head lowered as if to kiss me.

"Please," I mumbled, stepping back. "Can you... I need to shower." I turned my back to him, waiting for him to leave the room. For a moment I didn't hear anything, but then I heard his retreating footfall. When I turned around, he was gone. But possibly in my bedroom. And I was right. He was sitting at the edge of my bed staring into nothing when I went to close the door. Quickly stripping off, I got into the glass shower stall.

Turning the meter into steaming hot water, I let it hit my body. Soon enough steam started to fog around me, and the air around me turned hotter. It actually felt nice. Closing my eyes I tilted my face up, letting hot water hit on it. I knew I was going to be red all over when I finally get out, but I didn't care. By the time I was at Hunter's bar, I'd be fine. But I had to ditch Brock expertly. Because the way he came into my room, at this time of the day, it seemed like he wanted to spend the rest of his day with me. A shiver rushed down my spine.

I yelped in fear when arms enclosed me, pinning me flat against the glass wall. I wriggled, knowing that it was Brock. He emerged out of Smokey air, and I gasped when his body pressed against mine, naked. "Brock, get out!" I whimpered, finding unable to move with Brock forcing me back.

"Don't fight me," he murmured in my ear, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel him; all of him, nude, aroused and demanding. I whimpered again, the pitch of my stomach clenching painfully with dread. My eyes were wide, steam hitting against them and burning but I couldn't blink, not even if it took only a second.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" My voice cracked at the end, as I squirmed against him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" his calm demeanor only managed to rile my dread even more. "I'm not going to hurt you." A fearful mewl escaped from my lips, those words echoing in my head. I was scared; Shitless scared and I didn't hide it.

"What are you doing?" My words were shaky, lips trembling as I asked the same question again. I could think of only one thing he was going to do. And that was to hurt me. I cringed when his teeth grazed my shoulder blade, nipping at my skin. His lower parts pressed more tightly against mine, and I panted with the need to get out of there.

"I want you," those three words made me realize that my guess was correct. It would be a wonder if I get out of here alive. His hot breath fanned against the crook of my neck, before he sunk his teeth into my flesh. I yelped in pain, but he covered my mouth with one of his meaty hands, blocking out my voice. I struggled violently against him, mustering up whatever the strength I had in me and pushing him as hard as I can. His other hand crept behind me, grabbing one of my ass cheeks. I bit his hand, causing him to hiss and yank his hand back. Taking the small of that advantage I slipped away from his hold, hasting towards the glass sliding door. I was almost there, when arms snaked around me waist and yanked me back, my back connecting with the glass wall again. I swear I heard a crack.

I whined in pain, tears now pooling in my eyes as a result of the nausea I was feeling and the eerie emotion that had settled in the bottom of my heart. The only thing I could think of was failing the one job I had to do; Saving myself for Stephen.

"Stop it, please!" I begged, sobbing when he attempted to make his actions gentle and soothing. The tip of his nose trailed the line of my jaw to my chin, planting a brief kiss on my skin. "You can't do this!"

"But I can," he chuckled, nuzzling his face against my hair. "Why is it so hard to give yourself in to me, Randal? I could treat you so much better than Stephen." That, I had no doubt. But he would not do it by the way I liked, not like Stephen.

"I already gave in...to someone else," I closed my eyes, finally admitting what I had done out loud. It was the truth. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, mentally I was Stephen's.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling it back and exposing my throat. Gasping out as jolts of pain shot through my scalp, I grabbed his hand, trying to make him release my hair. "Does that mean you are no longer a virgin?" He hissed, his hand closing around my throat and squeezing me. How did he even know that? I could only choke, attempting to inhale give some air for my screaming lungs.

"Brock...please," I chocked out, wheezing.

He suddenly let me go, my legs giving out underneath and I slid onto my knees coughing for life. Those black spots that had appeared in my vision slowly faded, clearing the sight. But my head spun, my mind clouded in emotion. Shaking violently, I moved to a corner when Brock nudged me with his foot, an angry jab at my side. "You are right where you should be, you little whore." He whispered harshly, bending down to get in my face. I pressed against the wall as much as I can, my hands hovering over my face, a sad attempt to shield away from Brock's cold gaze. "I should've taken you sooner."

"You're fucking insane," I heard myself whisper, before flinching as Brock crouched down next to me. He gripped my hair again, pulling my face closer. I couldn't control the tears that ran down my cheeks but I was glad of the hot water that cascaded down on me, concealing the tears.

"I'm not insane... Do you hear me? I'M NOT INSANE!"

My breathing stopped. That almost sounded like Brock was trying to convince himself that he was...sane. His grip on me loosened and he let himself sit on the floor, beside me. All the anger in his face vanished the next second, replacing a blank, hypnotic expression. His lips moved like he was mumbling something like 'he killed her.'

I hugged myself, staring at him in a mixture of fear and sympathy. Time passed, I didn't know how much. The water was turning cold. Brock had gone completely still, and the only things in his small glass box that moved were his lips. I inched away from him, crawling to the sliding door. The whimper he let out had me frozen, on my knees, one hand on the handle. "Don't go..."

My chest tightened as I stayed looking at him, unable to move.

"Please don't go..."

I shook my head. Whether it was at myself or him I didn't know, but what I did know was that I had to get out of there. But my body was glued to the spot and I couldn't move. A tiny voice in the back of my head whispered it was because I didn't want to. Just to challenge that voice, I turned the handle.

"Randal..." Brock's voice was tiny, even if he was twice the size of me. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, booming in my ears. I couldn't understand Brock. His actions, his emotions, his words, his expressions...everything. The only question that nagged me was, what was he trying to do? He said he wants me but still hurt me, again and again. Physically and emotionally. He doesn't want me to be with Stephen and he claims that he'll treat me better than him yet...he's as worse as Stephen.

Playing with my feelings was one thing. But playing with my head...

"Stay..." Brock's eyes were as light as silver. I remembered Stephen saying that my eyes changed to that color when I was feeling down... Does that mean Brock was sad and regretting his actions? No. Someone like Brock never regrets things like that. He reached out to me. I cringed away, furiously sliding the door to the side and exiting the stall. I kept my eyes forward as I heard him pleading for me to come back, to come and be with him...to not leave him alone. I swallowed back a whimper of dread myself. Life in this house was fucking twisted.

The next second, a piercing sound of glass shattering rammed the echoing walls of the bathroom. Gasping, my eyes wide in fear I spun around to see Brock still sitting on the floor, but he was holding his head in his hands and one side of the glass stall was completely broken, pieces of sharp glass scattered across the floor. Blood was seeping out of the cuts and scratches in his right arm, and the horrid realization of he might have punched the glass to break it crossed my mind.

I ran to him avoiding the glass pieces, crouching down and cupping his face. "What the hell did you do?!" He just stared at me blankly, slightly shaking. It was like he was looking right through me, at something else. "You're hurt," I toned the harshness in my voice down. "Jesus..." I grunted, trying to lift him up to his feet but failing terribly. He weighed like a ton. "Brock, you aren't helping me... Can you... Can you stand up?"

He did, slowly, bracing against the tiled wall with his good hand. The other one... I gulped. It looked so sickening that I didn't want to keep looking at. But Brock acted like he was immune to the pain it caused. I hesitantly wrapped my arm around his waist, and he immediately leaned more than half of his weight against me. I swallowed back an uncomfortable grunt, but helped him out of the bathroom. And I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that we were both naked, pressed against. I lead him to the bed, and motioned for him to sit there. He looked at me, then at the bed. His jaws twitched hard as he glared at the bed for an unknown reason and proceeded his way to the chair at the work table and sat down. Wasting only a second, the first thing I did was pulling on the shorts I took to the bathroom.

When I returned, Brock was trying to slide his legs into his pants and...

I turned my back to him, picking the phone on the night stand. I dialed the digit that connected to the kitchen, and waited.

"Bourne, here," Evan's voice rang through the line.

"Evan... I need you to call Dr. Michaels and ask him to come here immediately. It's an emergency," I cleared my throat, noticing the rasp in my voice.

"Right, away," the line went dead, and I assumed that he was calling the family doctor right away. Tossing the phone onto the bed, I glanced at Brock. He was sitting motionless, bare-chested like a statue at a museum.

"Brock?" I reluctantly called out. He blinked, and that was all. Resisting the urge to sigh, I stood up and walked over to him. "Why did you do that?"

He blinked again, and then turned his head away. "Because you wouldn't stay..." A lump formed in my throat. Why was he acting like this? Like... He was obsessed? Before I could ask anything else, someone knocked at my door. Casting a final glance at Brock, I went to open the door.

"Are you okay?" Evan bursted, looking me up and down about thousand times before his gaze settled on my face.

"Yeah," I muttered, leaning against the door frame and sighing. The twist in my guts was tightening, so painfully as I felt Brock's cold gaze land on me.

"Randy….?" His eyes narrowed. I dropped my gaze.

"Not for me…" I toed the floor, "Brock cut his arm…."

"What is he doing in your room?" Eyes widening, Evan took a step back, whispering.

"I don't know," my answer was honest. "I don't want to know either. Just… bring me a towel." I left the door open, and walked over to the closet, to grab a t-shirt. I sensed Evan linger in the doorway just a little bit more and then swiftly disappeared down the corridor. Whether it was because the need of the towel or the glare Brock was sending out I didn't know.

"When did you get that tattoo on your shoulder?" Look how casual Brock looked and talked with me, like moments ago he didn't try to…try to…

I sat on my bed, the furthest away from him. "Two days ago," muttering, I rubbed the back of my neck. I avoided looking at him, because I knew the blood that was flowing out of his wounds that wetted and pooled on the floor will nausea me.

"Does it have a meaning?"

I stared at him blankly. No, I wasn't thinking about a meaning when getting it. It was just to…show off.

"You saw the tattoo on my chest of a sword?" I nodded slowly. I couldn't figure out where he was heading with this subject. "At one point of my life, I felt like it was holding a throat right up against my throat, so I went under the ink gun and because I never wanted to forget exactly how I felt at that time," he chuckled darkly. "This has so much meaning to me. in some ways, it's funny, because the period of my life that I so want to forget, but I know I can use this memory as motivation… The tattoo on my back… It's just the reflection I see of me when I look into the mirror."

I blinked at the memory of the monster faced tattoo on his back. Was that how he saw himself? As a _monster?_ I bit my lip to drown in guilty. I remembered that time when I called him a monster. How much must have it hurt him? "Doesn't it hurt you to see those tattoos over and over again and be reminded of what had happened?" My voice was barely a whisper and I was surprised when he answered my question.

"It does. But it's up to you to choose to _ignore_ it, or to live _with_ it." I sneaked a glance at his dull grey eyes, my heart lurching at the pained look in his eyes. And it was definitely not the pain from those bleeding wounds in his arm. The pity and sympathy I felt for him buried the dread I had felt towards him. the feeling alone should have scared me, but like Brock said, I chose to ignore it.

The next hour passed with Evan cleaning up the mess on the floor and me holding the towel around Brock's arm carefully, not putting pressure at the glass pieces that were sticking out of his flesh. Dr. Michaels arrived twenty minutes later, and he kept glancing sideways at me while he tended to the injured arm. Brock's other hand was wrapped around mine, his fingers intertwined with mine. I squeezed back, letting him know that it was okay… but okay for what? Dr. Michaels didn't question how it happened, and I guessed that this was not the first time something like this happened.

When all was over, he patted gently on Brock's back with a warm smile to which Brock returned a blank look. He stood up, and without even sparing me a glance he left. Evan excused himself from me and Dr. Michaels, going into my bathroom to clean up what remained of the shattered glass. I looked awkwardly at the light brown haired man, not knowing what to say. He finished packing up his bag, looking over at me, and then at the bathroom. "Dr. Stratus told me about your condition, Randy."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Don't be upset over her. She is a very good friend of mine and she knows that for years I've been serving this family. She only shared the details with me in case if she wasn't available at a time, I'd be able to help," Dr. Michaels gave a crooked smile.

"Did you-"

"No, I didn't. If Trish only shared it with me, it means that the matter is utterly confidential. I wanted to get your permission….to inform about this to everyone in this house about your coma condition in case something happened in the future," he lightly shrugged.

"You sound so sure that something will happen," a scowl took over my expression and he raised his hands in defense.

"I'm not…. But I'm not saying it won't happen either," his voice sounded curt. "Knowing Stephen for years, I know how he reacts to things. Specially around a barely-familiar person like you. If things get out of hands…"

"He won't do anything like that to me," I whispered, backing away. "He won't hurt me," it was as if I was trying to convince myself. Just like Brock had done an hour ago.

"You must realize that not only physical contact will harm your memory, Randy," Dr. Michaels warned. "Emotions, feelings can cause damage too…. Only severe than physical ones." I gulped, letting myself fall into a sitting position in the bed.

The emotional stress I'd have to deal with when the time finally comes for me to leave…..

I thanked God for making Evan r-appear in the bedroom. His gaze shifted to me and Dr. Michaels back and forth for a few seconds, and I feared he might have heard something. Then he excused himself again, leaving the room.

"I should probably go…." I heard Dr. Michaels say and a second later I heard the sound of his footfall fading down the hall. Curling into a ball in my bed, I closed my eyes. The kitten jumped into the bed, and the mattress slightly dipped as it padded over to me. I pulled it closer, pushing it against the curve of my elbow, making a small bed for it. Soft, light green eyes stared back at me, as it settled against my arm, balling into a comfortable fur ball.

That second I realized how much I missed Stephen. I wished he was here with me, so I could wash all the pain away from my mind and just be with him. he always created a way for me to escape the reality. And the only way to escape the reality for me now was sleep. Which also, I didn't get because he wasn't here. And instead, it was Brock.

And I didn't like it.

XXXXX

"There's a party…."

"Randy," Hunter growled, just as I opened my mouth. I knew he didn't like parties, _any kind of parties_, but the thought of teasing him… "Just stop."

"Whaaaat?" I whined. "It's not a bad thing," I grinned. "It's over at the Farrelly's house. I want you to come."

"But I don't want to," he growled again, and then softened his expression at the sad look on my face. "Look…" he sighed. "I'm not going to fit with those rich, stuck-up, people…"

"Then how do you think I'm holding up with them?" I raised an eyebrow as he hesitantly shrugged. "They're not that bad, Hunter," I finished wiping the glasses and placed them on the shelves, turning wound and leaning against the counter, while Hunter sat in the stool that was provided for me. His big ass was taking all of it. "Plus, I'll be there."

He snorted.

"What?" I glowered.

"Nothing," he made an innocent face. "Does this mean I'd have to wear a suit?"

"What do you think?" I gave him the 'duh' tone. His face scrunched up into an expression of disgust and frustration.

"Okay, you made it clear. I don't want to come," he stated, standing up from the stool and walking over to his office. Glancing at the visitors' area, and deciding that no one will show up for a drink for a few minutes, I strutted behind him.

"But, Hunterrrrrrrr," whining, I hurried to block his way. "I'm alone at the party… I have no one… And Stephen will be with his aunts and uncles and grandpas and everyone…" I pouted, sagging my shoulders.

Hunter pursed his lips, his hands going to rest on his hips. I widened my eyes, giving the puppy look and batted my lashes. "Stop it…" I pouted more. "Randy, I told you once, just stop it… Randy!" he was close to explode when I gave up teasing the poor man. But I kept the sad look on my face, sauntering towards the door.

"It's okay…. I'll stay alone… I don't need anyone…. Specially not you…."

"Okay, okay! Jeez!" A shit eating grin spread my lips, as Hunter gave up. He has never been able to resist my puppy expression. Never. "A little shit you are, you know?" He growled, when my arms wrapped around his neck and hugged him tightly. I gave a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek to which he grimaced half-haertedly. "You're such a girl…"

"Am not," I insisted, bouncing on my feet excitedly. "I'll give you the address, be there at eight, tomorrow night. Since you're closing the shop for the next three days, make sure you buy a new suit. I want you to look as good as them. If you want, I can come with you."

"No thanks," his eyebrows shot up. "Being the girl you are, you'll waste an entire day to choose me a suit. With only me it'll take about an hour."

I punched his arm. "Jerk…" Then something clicked in my mind, and I started to unzip the hoodie I was wearing.

"What are you doing?" Hunter's wary voice reached me, as I slipped the hoodie off. "Are you like… trying to show me that you're not a girl?"

I froze, then blushed furiously. "Are you nuts?!" I shrieked, my fingers frozen at the hem of my sweater. "I'm trying to show you my tattoos."

"Oh," I shook my head at the lightest tint of re that covered his cheeks. "Sorry."

I took off the sweater, and forced back a shiver when Hunter's hazel eyes glinted as they ran down my chest and stomach. "You're the first one to see them," I reached out to him, and he took my hands, pulling me closer. His gaze ran slowly over the skulls, roses, and birds with angel wings that marred into my skin in my arms, with black ink.

"Those are beautiful," he mumbled, a mesmerized look in his face as he said those words. Then his eyes locked with mine. "They suit you…. How much did you have to pay for them?"

"A lot, but I got a discount. The guy happily cut off a hundred or two when he heard my last name," I smiled bitterly. The things a surname could do… I watched as Hunter's eyes ran over me and darken, the strange glint disappearing. I looked at him puzzled, trying to read his closeted feelings.

"Go on…" he lightly pushed me away. "Throw in that shirt. If someone comes in…." Realization dawned to me. I nodded hastily, throwing on the sweater and the hoodie quickly. Just as I was zipping it up, there was a knock at the door. Sighing in relief at the time the person managed to get here, I turned around to face him.

"You've got a call," John handed me his cell phone. Which meant it was Stephen. I looked at the time. It should be like nine at night in Greece.

"Stephen?"

"Hey…" his voice sounded controlled and strained. "You don't sound like you were sleeping."

My heart skipped a beat. "No, I haven't. I just…couldn't."

"Oh… well…" it sounded awkward. "I, um…. Have to tell you something…."

"What is it?" my heart thudded in my chest, anticipated to hear what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry okay?" His whisper had all my happy thoughts buried deep.

"For what?"

"I won't be able to come for Christmas," he breathed out, his voice heavy. My breathing stopped. And I felt that he was saying the truth. He wasn't teasing me like he did many times, this was serious.

"But…"

"I'm sorry, Love," his apology fell on deaf ears. I handed he phone back to John, who took it, and answered Stephen. Muttering into the phone John walked out of Hunter's office, giving a worried glance to me. Hunter… I had almost forgotten that he was here too. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

"Are you okay?" He reached out to me.

I stepped back, away from his comforting touch. I couldn't…. Laughing, I stepped towards the door to go to the counter again. "Never been better."

I couldn't stop the tears that flowed out of my eyes. I only asked him for one thing, and he failed to do that. How can I wish him to do more for me?

**I made the time fly. And if I made anyone disappointed, I'm sorry. Every scene can't have a happy ending….**


	22. Chapter 22

**Song of the Chapter: **_If I Lose Myself-One Republic_

**Dedication**_:BBreakdown_

**(22)**

"Randy!" John's arms locked around my waist, pulling me back. I wriggled, trying to get away. "Slow down!"

"John, there's still a lot of work to do!" I whined, wrapping my fingers around John's wrists and trying to pry them apart. "Let me go!" With a surprised yelp, I was forced to sit in a chair. John definitely had strength.

"Just sit down, take a breath god damn it! You've been running here and there the whole day, working your ass off, when this freaking house has about hundreds of servants to do the work," he exclaimed, his hands pinning my shoulders to the backrest of the chair. His sapphire eyes were worried and worn out as he crouched down in front of me. "I know what you're trying to do..."

I shifted my gaze to the floor, finding it unable to look at him.

"Trust me... This won't work," he finalized.

"How do you know?" I whispered.

"Because I've tried it, Randy. For the past two days. I barely see Dean when he's here. Imagine how it feels not having to look or talk to him for two weeks," John's hands dropped to mine and held them. I couldn't imagine it. John didn't have the previledge to even call Dean when I have had even video calls with Stephen. "It hurts..."

_It hurts when you're in love._

"But that pain is worth when you finally get him," I squeezed his hands, a sad attempt to comfort him. "At least in your case."

"Damn me if Master Stephen won't end up with you," John cracked a smile, his eyes sparkling the littlest bit. I chuckled bitterly.

"Maybe in the afterlife."

"I wasn't kidding," John's expression turned serious. "You should've seen his actions and face expressions when he said goodbye that day...from my point of view."

There was an itch at a corner of my heart. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't go asking or pressuring him about this... To me...he looked like he loved you," my breathing hitched as those words slipped out of John's mouth. "Watch his actions. Watch how he behaves around you..."

"No," I whispered to myself. It can't be. Then I looked at John. His eyes were sincere; he wasn't joking around. And then I remembered what Rosa had said that day… Maybe she was just fangirling too much.

"Yes," he insisted, giving my thighs an assuring pat. "Just…be patient. And see."

_Maybe when he finally gives in, I won't be here._

I gave a faint nod. John ruffled my hair as he straightened up, softly ordering me to stay put in one place. I rolled my eyes half-heartedly, my lips curving to a slight arrogant smile. Giving me a warning look, he walked away, joining some other guys that were suited just like him at the front doors. I looked around, seeing various kinds of dishes and sweets on the dining table. My ingers itched to get a hold of that chocolate and crisps covered strawberries, but at the dawn of the day Evan had given me the resitriction of not to touch any of the food until dinner time, due to the look I had given the food in the first place.

Damn these people who won't let me do anything I won't. By far, only Hunter and John knew about the tattoos. I made sure to cover them up by wearing turtle-neck sweaters with long sleeves, so no one would see my inked skull and angel winged tattoos marring my arms. The sole purpose of getting those tattoos was the connection I had between me and the world; me and Stephen Farrelly. Wasn't a simple thing to explain, but since I had vowed myself not to bare any information about its meaning, I would not utter a word to anyone. To _anyone_.

I sighed. I was already tired of sitting in this chair for five minutes, and not having to eat these mouth-watering food was really a bad temptation. I clasped my hands together so they wouldn'tbetray Evan and break his rule. I couldn't talk with any of them either, as they were running here and there, decorating the house for tomorrow night's Christmas party, where the Farrelly's relatives,friends, business partners will be there. And without Stephen, I'll be alone. And I didn't want Hunter to spend his Christmas alone. Sure, maybe he has done it countless times but hell, here I was and there he was, why not invite him to this house for a night?

The thought of him alone, in that small house of his was unbearable. But gladly, I won't be spendingthis Christmas worrying about where he was and what he would be doing. He was in my hands and I wasn't about to let him go, not without a fight. Running a hand through my hair, I stood up, but then sat back down, huffing, as John sent me a glare from at the doors. I bent forward, my hands cupping my face and elbows on my knees, bored as shit. I never knew Christmas could be boring. The Farrelly's were decorating the tree. It felt amazing to know that how much of a workoholic Owen Farrelly was, he dedicated his personal time for his family. And to think that Stephen had been avoiding them….

I just couldn't get it through my head. Stephen had everything, unlike me. but he had pushed it all away, because of a someone who had broken his heart. But it's been what? Four years? Six years? I didn't know. But it sure was a shame to know that he missed many family moments, many happy memories. Another tug at my heart, and I felt a lump form in mytroat. The fact that he wasn't hear sent a cold shiver through my body. Instead of him, Brock was here. The black sheep of the family who appeared to be someone more than his appearance showed. It was twenty-fourth of December, one day after Brock injured himself. Why? Because I wouldn't obey and stay with him.

Something told me that Brock was not the man we thought. There was something deep stirring inside him, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. And I was its prey. Somehow, I had gotten myself tangled into this mess. I pushed the tiny voice that echoed through my head, saying that 'there was no way out' for me in this black hole. I shouldn't have let myself go easy on him. Forgiving and forgetting everything he has done for me in the past few weeks, act like nothing happened between us and move on. I shouldn't have let my heart feel pity for him, shouldn't have let him see that I had a weak side for me. but I couldn't act like a heartless bitch either. It was just that I went too far, and there was no rope strong enough to pull me back up.

"Randy?" I looked up to see Mrs. Farrelly reaching out for me. her soft hand rested on my shoulder, giving me a light squeeze. "You okay?" I gave a stiff nod. "What are you doing all alone here?"

I glanced back at the front doors. "John ordered me not to do any work and just sit and wait."

Her laughter tinkled in my ears. "Well, what he did was quite alright. I saw you…. Working like a firecracker throughout the day. There are plenty of servants to do all that work, dear."

"But I was bored…" I whined, huffing again.

A grin spread across her lips, and she shook her head. "You can come and help us decorate the tree, if you want?"

My spine straigtened up like an electric shot went through it. I had a shit eating grin on my face. "Really?!" Any-freaking-thing to get my mind off of Stephen…and Brock.

"Yes," she nodded. "Now, come on," she motioned me to follow her, and sticking my tongue out at John who was sending me a flat look, I trudged after Mrs. Farrelly. When we got to the room where they spent family evenings; a cozy room with cozy stuff, made for just ghanging out and talking with people. It contained a vintage themed fireplace, which I absolutely loved and big, soft love-seats and sofas where you could just literally fall asleep once your body hits them. The buttery color of the wallpapers just added to the old fashioned look the room gave out. It was the room which came right out of Little Women.

Mr. Farrelly was setting up the Christmas lights around the tree, and he paused just for a second to see us entering. The baubles, colorful socks, small Santa Clauses, candles were done, and the room was filled with the scent of lavender, whichi guessed had to something with those luminous candles. It was a warming atmosphere. Mrs. Farrelly handed me the gralends, asking me to hang them in the walls where metal pins were nailed to the wall. Halfway through the process, I I felt someone examining me. and it wasn't Brock. I glanced from the corner of my eye, seeing Mr. Farrelly settled down in a love-seat in a thoughtful gaze. Mrs. Farrelly was unaware of him, unlacing more decoration packages.

"Sir?" I called out, wondering if there was something wrong. I was standing up on a high-legged stool, and any of my wrongly turned move would cause me to fall off. I gripped the window sill next to the wall in attempt not to fall, and slowly turned to him. he waved me away, smiling slightly.

"I'm just wondering why Stephen is late," he mused. My chest tightened, and the grip on the window sill tightened. So Stephen hadn't said anything to his parents? Why was he so cruel to mock them like this? I bit my bottom lip. Should I…? Better crushing their hopes now, than letting them suffer for hours long.

"Sir… he's… he's…" Damn it. Why couldn't I just get it out of my mouth?

"He's what?" Mr. Farrelly leaned forward, his goak leaf colored eyes sparkling in amusement. Just like Stephen's. I had to look away.

"He's not coming," by now I knew Mrs. Farrelly's attention was also on me. They shared a surprised look and something else between them, and looked at me.

"When did he say that, dear?" Mrs. Farrelly put down the decorations in her hand, giving me a puzzled look.

"Two days ago," my voice was barely audible, meek. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry of," Mrs. Farrelly turned her back to me, after a long moment of silence. Mr. Farrelly just laid his head back, closing his eyes. His lips twitched, and it dangerously seemed like he was trying not to smile. Frowning for a few seconds, I went back to my work.

Something wasn't right. I kept glancing at the couple, who didn't seem much affected by my confession. Maybe they were just fed up and used to this kind of behaviour. But no, that fact refused to click in my head. That hidden smirk on Mr. Farrelly's face nerved me. My whole mind was wrapped around Stephen, and I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. Which was bad, considering that I was four feet off the floor on an unstable stool.

"Daddy, Daddy, look! It's here!" Evelyn's cheery voice rang through the room as she ran into Mr. Farrelly's lap, climbing hadtily. Brock followed into the room closely behind, with a quite large box in his good hand, while the other still had a bandage wrapped around it. But he could move it easily than the first day, I noticed as he made his way to his father and handed him the box. Despite being the black sheep, he seemed to remain his relationship with his parents stable and comfortable, unlike Stephen who took his anger out on everyone.

Wait, why was I even comparing them?

Shaking my head in frustration, I nailed the loose pin into the wall with a hammer. I heard Mr. Farrelly asking Evvy to open up the box and then ask Brock how he was doing. A few mutterings later he was cradling Evvy in his arms and was taking her to the Christmas tree. In attempt to see what she had in her hands, I turned my head and accidentally forgot that my hand was bringing down the hammer. I hissed painfully when the heavy thing hit my thumb and immediately dropped it, resulting it to hit the toes of my left leg. I yelped and lost balance, and gasped in horror as I slipped off the stool.

And I waited till my back hit the floor, my face scrunched up, my hands balled to fists. But no, nothing happened. "I got you," my eyes snapped open, and I realized Brock was holding me. Bridal style. In front of his parents and Evelyn. I quickly settled onto my feet, fixing my sweater and awkwardly looked at all of them.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Farrelly asked in concern while Mrs. Farrelly stared at me in a weird way. A light blush tainted my cheeks.

"Yeah, I just hit my thumb, that's all," I awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of my head. And also, I think I may have sprained one of my toes, considering the constant slight pain shots that were rushing through the leg.

"I can do the rest," Brock mumbled, pushing me lightly towards the door. "You must have hurt your leg. Ask someone to check on it."

"But it's-"

"Go," it's the dark tint on his words that made me obey. My body litterally shrunk back and I stepped away from him, nodding. I walked out, temptation to take off my shoe and look at the bruise almost killing me. It hurt, so bad. What if I won't be able to attend the party tomorrow night? Hunter would be alone...

"What happened now?" John raised an eyebrow at me when I finally reached the bottom of the staircase. I casted a deadly glare at him.

"I hurt my leg, what do you think?" I spat.

"More like you hurt your head." I punched his arm.

"You are so abusive!" He complained, while I tried not to freak out as memories hit my brain.

"Cena," a big, about seven feet tall man interrupted my reply. "They're here." And a faint sound of a car's engine cutting off. My heart jumped into my throat.

They're here?

THEY'RE HERE?!

John and I only wasted a second before hurrying to the front doors. I struggled to ignore the pain in my toes and limped behind John. The rapid beating of my heart boomed in my ears, and the fragile organ was ready to burst of my chest. A happy grin stretched my lips to the point my cheeks were ready to tear apart.

God damn it, he was here! I recognized the red corvette, where Stephen travelled often. The first one who came out was Wade, out of the driver's seat. Dean followed seconds later, both of them dressed in heavy clothes. I craned my neck in anticipation, climbing down the marble staircase. And then I froze.

Wait...

Wasn't the Corvette a two-seater car?

My heart sunk to my guts and my world darkened. No, not physically. But it felt like that. He wasn't here. Stephen wasn't here. If Wade could come, if Dean could come, why couldn't he? I hugged myself. I willed my body not to break down and cry all over the place. I let my body slowly sit down on one of the steps and watched, as John hugged the life out of Dean. And from the expression on Wade's face, it seemed that he already knew about it. It was a moment later he noticed me, as he was guiding some servants of whose travelling bags were whose. I fought to keep my expression steady as he made his way to me, his face unreadable. He sat down next to me, not even caring that his thousand dollar coat was going to be covered in snow when he gets up. I sniffled a sob.

"Hey there, kitten," he gave an unusual but warm, genuine smile. Where was the Wade Barrett I knew?

"Hi," I whispered, leaning my head against the marble rail.

"Aren't you cold?" he wondered. I shook my head and then involuntarily shivered. Wade chuckled slightly, zipping down his coat. I stopped him, placing my hand on his.

"I want to feel it," I said, closing my eyes.

"But it's cold..." Dean interrupted, coming towards me holding John's hand, stating the obvious.

"Not as cold as I'm feeling inside," I muttered, turning my head away from them. A gesture that silently asked them to leave me alone. A tensed silence filled the icy air for the second time of the night. They hesitated, but left, except Wade. I still felt his presence beside me.

"Kitten... I'm sorry that he couldn't be here tonight," he started, pressing against me lightly. But not in the usual perverted way. And I wondered again, what happened to him? "He missed the flight. And the reason should not be blamed upon him."

My eyes cracked open. "What do you mean?" My voice was barely audible.

Wade pursed his lips, shifting his gaze away from me. "It's not my place to say it... You'll have to wait till he gets back."

"Wade..." I turned to him, touching his arm. "Please... Tell me..." He just stared out at the courtyard. "Does it have something to do with a blue eyed, brown haired guy who looked like he was in Stephen's age?"

Wade's eyes snapped to mine.

Yup.

He definitely had something to do with it.

I felt more emotionless and hollow than ever. With a loud, pained sigh, I let tears finally pool my eyes. They stung, as the chilly air already had dried up my eyes. I drew my knees upto my chest, burying my face between them.

I just couldn't take anymore. It was enough.

More than enough.

"Randy..."

"Please, Wade... I wa-want to b-be alone," I hiccuped, barely managing the words out as uncontrollable sobs broke out. A warm pat on my back and he was gone. When any sound except the rush of the wind surrounded me, I lifted my head back up and freely cried. I didn't care if the tear trails froze in my face, I didn't care if my body went dehydrated, I just wanted to cry until I passed out.

Pain was blinding. Not the physical pain. Emotional pain. I felt like I was falling into pieces that could not be replaced. That certain voice in my head screamed not to reach that particular point, but the arrow has almost reached its destination.  
Just as another car pulled through the gates, blackness surrounded me.

Much, much later, a familiar someone's frantic voice rang through my ears.

XXX

I snuggled into the warmness. I didn't want to get up, I wanted to stay in there forever. It felt like I was drowned in a sea of comforters and blankets. And the heat surrounding me was addictive. Wait a second...

Sheets...?

Bed...?

The last time I remembered, I was sitting in the couch with Evelyn reading her a book... I inhaled deeply. My nose twitched at the familiar vailla scent which filled my senses. I forced my eye lids to part and felt something tighten around me.

Arms...

Arms?

"How are you feeling, Love?" He beat me to it. He beat me to it. It was him. It really was him. Not Brock. Not anyone else but him.

"Stephen?" I whispered, opening my eyes a bit wider and looking at that vibrant green eyes sparkling down at me.

"I'm here," he soothed, running a hand through my hair. I raised my hand and let my finger tips touch his face, gliding over his lips. He was real.

"You're here..."

"I am here," he confirmed, his lips curving to the softest smile.

"You keep your promises, don't you?" My fingers resumed their work on his cheek, softly caressing it.

"I promised to try to come. But I did. I think I did a it pretty good, eh? Sorry Don't you think I deserve a gift? Sorry I was a bit late though." His grin was cheeky, warming my heart and trying to make it fly. I didn't think he knew what effect he had on me. He leaned closer, his fingers ghosting over my bare hip, pulling me closer. Those lips looked so tempting, as they were grazed over mine. My head spun in overwhelm. Something fluttered inmy stomach. And I think he felt it too, because his hand moved to my stomach, his nails running over my abs. my lips parted in a silent moan, my back arching against his hand. His emerald eyes darkened. Wait… Missed his flight? I furrowed my eyebrows. Where did I hear something like that? It sounded familiar. And...late?

"What do you mean you were late?"

Stephen frowned, those perfectly shaped brows knotting. "I was supposed to come on twenty-fourth, but I was a day late. It's twenty-fifth today, two in the morning. Officially Christmas."

I tore myself away from him and sat straight on the bed. Twenty-fifth? But I was... What the hell was... Oh no. _Oh hell no_. This _can't_ be true.

"Randy? What's wrong?" Stephen's arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his body. "You're shaking... What's wrong, Love?"

How could I not, when I woke up with temporary memory loss? I turned my head and kissed him. So hard, to the point where my lips started to hurt. But I wasn't complaining. What if I woke up knowing nothing about him? Waking up next to a man who you did not know, who would be caliming that I was his husband... I pulled away when my lungs couldn't take the abuse and rested my forehead against Stephen's, cupping his face and climbing onto his body, slowly pushing him back down on the bed. I ignored his worried words and lied on top of him, my arms circling around his mid-section and my head resting on his chest. For so long, I kept planting kisses all over his chest, loving how soft but hard his skin was.

"Hmm?" I hummed as he kept tugging my chin.

"Please tell me what's wrong?" he almost begged. My heart swelled, just knowing how much he actually cared. I didn't think twice about it; Because I could hear his emotions through his words.

"Everything's okay...for now," and I was flipped onto my back, with Stephen hovering above me. Oh, how I've missed this sight of him.

"I found you blacking out and crying your heart out at the entrance of the house, Randal, don't fucking tell me everything's okay," he spat, but there was no anger in his voice. It was laced with worry and sadness. Maybe a bit of something else that I did not quite understand. "You told me you never lie."

"I don't," I confirmed. I just don't tell you what you don't need to know. And I wondered... "Why was I crying?"

Stephen's horror filled eyes pierced through me. "You really don't remember, do you?" I bit my lip, debating for a second and then I shook my head, slowly. He closed his eyes, hiding those beautiful emeralds away from me and leaned forward, burying his face against my neck. I felt his lips trembling against my skin.

My guts twisted, as his arms tightened around me. Not because of the action, but because of the feeling he was giving me. Like he'd lose me at any second. I hugged him to me, feeling him relax against me but that little tension didn't leave his body.

"You're coming with me to the hospital tomorrow, Randy… Whether you like it or not. I'm scared," he whispered, kissing my neck. "I'm scared….for you," I felt how he had put effort to say just those words. But I was glad… really, really glad that he wasn't closing in on himself like he usually do.

My soul shivered. "I'm scared too, baby..."

And I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling that Stephen never knew he gave me. I could worry about my memory later. Right now, I just needed to hold him. Nothing mattered more than Stephen.

**Please, please, please I beg you guys to leave a review. Every week it's from same people I'm hearing from. I want to get to know you all, how you think, what you think of this story. So, please.**


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